How is it that a prince of heaven would feel so low?
Behold, the man clothed in royal garments
A crown of gold was set on his head.
He bears the family name of his Father the King.
Yet he has forgotten.
Lies, yes lies from the father of lies.
And perhaps something deeper?
Buried beneath were untreated wounds
The scars of time long past.
Wounds self-inflicted, wounds inflicted by those he loved.
For he was pierced by regret and rejected by those he treasured.
In a fortress of fear, which high walls he erected,
The prince locked himself in cold darkness.
Open the floodgates! Tear down the walls!
See two streams flow freely and the scars heal wholly!
Rejection is cast out for before the King he stands
Embraced in love, emptied of fear.