[i]How far must one fall 
To raise up all?[/i]

The divine sparks, 
Warped, blunted, shuttered, blinded 
in prisons of mere flesh,
Cried out in lust, agony,
Torment and revolt,
Shouted for redemption
Even as they fell into the abyss.
So many roasted coals below, 
So few sparks ascending to the sky.

When the Word descended and became Flesh as well
Each spark had their part within the grand story,
Redeemer, Hero, Defender, Rock,
Gathered to inspire the living.

But so many dead lay far below,
Smoldering in the embers,
Whoever could reach them?

So one of the holy twelve
Took the money and the mortal sin,
Accepted the part of [i]Betrayer[/i]
And descended still further
To reach those mired in the toils of hell,
To cure the sickened of soul
And raise the dead of hope

So at the first Harrowing, and each thereafter,
More and more did the sparks fly upward,
Borne to reconciliation and peace.