The fall of the ochre leaves of the autumn of vassal souls.

John 19:1-16
Jesus Sentenced to Be Crucified
19 Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. 2 The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe 3 and went up to him again and again, saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they slapped him in the face.
4 Once more Pilate came out and said to the Jews gathered there, “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him.” 5 When Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe, Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!”
6 As soon as the chief priests and their officials saw him, they shouted, “Crucify! Crucify!”
But Pilate answered, “You take him and crucify him. As for me, I find no basis for a charge against him.”
7 The Jewish leaders insisted, “We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God.”
8 When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, 9 and he went back inside the palace. “Where do you come from?” he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. 10 “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you´-or-to crucify you?”
11 Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.”
12 From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jewish leaders kept shouting, “If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.”
13 When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge’s seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). 14 It was the day of Preparation of the Passover-;- it was about noon.
“Here is your king,” Pilate said to the Jews.
15 But they shouted, “Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!”
“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.
“We have no king but Caesar,” the chief priests answered.
16 Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.”
The character Jesus is the chosen steed to carry the cross of an envied royalty without existing, he stood on his stirrups to walk through the gloomy valley of the flowerless thorns of blindness without light, of the guilty words of falsehood that flow miserably on the metal rack of the ancient cross.
A hedge of weeping hawthorns producing the sooty tears of endless accusation of a royalty gangrenous with the "holiness" of cruelty crucifying every seed of loyal justice.
A jaded convict recluse in the "monastery" scrambling souls accused of eternal suppurating jinx carrying the gangrene of a royal injustice marked by the manifest "power" of evil, "church" ward disloyally built on the innocent blood of murdered souls and children abused by paedophile priests.
Slave to the lord of the thorn-crowned heads of worshipped wickedness, faces stained with the blight of the malice of guilty sentences of lies.
The lord of vassal souls is the stronghold of colonised spirits, medieval cartularies of embitterers stealing the sanctity of the sovereign Soul to make monastic settlers reign, cursed troubadours, deceitful forked tongues, filthy and hypocritical merchants of the faith they foolishly sell the cross of the Jesus character to the Qatari Muslims, to Israeli Jews, the commercial representatives of "religions" experiencing the infamous intoxication of the ignominy of the eternally unfulfilled needs of wealth and glory bolstered by inhumanity closing the eyelids of royal loyalty opening the ways of the valleys of Lilliputian persecution.
Sanitation of the incurable tumours walking in the damaged veins of the unjustly proud of the beastly appetites carrying the impotent promises of the fertile flowers "embodying" the fading thorns on the bent spines of a deception developed in the foggy studios condemned to a real dead-end debine .
To dwell on the iniquity and persecutions suffered by the character Jesus without being able to observe the sparkling light of equity is a burnt out candle melted on the yellowish leaves of an autumn affected by an eternal fall of its branches felled by the drought of a just climate sanctioning the greenness of the trees recalling the perpetual change of the seasons and the certain shine of human probity impregnating the Soul of the poet with the blackish colours of inspiring melancholy tracing the borders between the disgust of the the perpetual change of seasons and the sure shine of human probity impregnating the Soul of the poet with the blackish colours of inspiring melancholy tracing the borders between the disgust of the spirits of dull autumn and the contemplative Soul of the holy rain fertilising all the seasons defying the temporality of ochre leaves.
A revealing intention to tear down the ephemeral flavescent shadows marking the fatal finitude of the caverns of the shadow spirits, beings conceived in the depths of the misty hells seeking to steal the light of the glowing Soul between the stars manifesting the miraculous creation of the Soul greater than the world and its component parts, its insignificant human-looking objects.

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