My Dearest Judith,
It is Saturday
I’m sitting on Jesus’ tomb
Waiting, and doing some thinking
About tomorrow, when he will rise, I assume
I’ve come a long ways
And a long time
In that time machine
You always said would never work
I was there in Bethsaida
It was really quite a thrill
Especially when he fed all those people
Sitting hungry on that hill
I’m still not sure if it was a miracle
Or if he was ahead of his time
Socially engineering the people into sharing
Making to not, a guilty crime
I was in the boat
On the Sea of Galilee
On the day he walked on water
And calmed the storm
Personally, I think he got lucky with that weather
And where he walked
I can’t be sure
But it looked awfully shallow
I followed him as he did many things
The crippled stood upright
He healed the sick
The blind saw light
I’m no expert
Their symptoms could have been psychosomatic
Their miracle
Lots of talking and being dramatic
A placebo effect affair
Now this resurrection thing
It would really make this all worth the gamble
It’s really what I came back for
Following and talking to him just a preamble
I was watching as he drug that cross through town
Hung in the sun
And died
I’m sure he was dead
His eyes went dull
Got limp as a dishrag
I even touched his head
Now here he lies
In this tomb, upon which I sit
He’s supposed to rise on the third day
And I don’t want to miss it
Okay, so he died on a Friday
Should I count Friday as the first day?
Or should I go by 72 hours from then?
That must be what they meant to say
I’ve got plenty of time, in that case
I’m going into town
Buy some knick-knacks
Check out the place
I’ll come back bright and early Monday morning
I’ll record it in high def
It will be grand
I’ll be more famous than Hef
Unless he doesn’t rise
Totally un-resurrected
I’d say he was always a sham
Just as I always suspected.
Am leaving this with the other manuscripts,
In the cave by the sea
In case something should happen to me.
All my love to you Judith
Kisses,
Thomas
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