Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb.
It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance.
The Fog surrounds us; shawls our souls on days distracted away from the Lord. Prayer lifts the shrouding wisps revealing the reality of ourselves behind the fallen clouds of our own making: diminishing cadences of dust if not for God bending low to be murdered on a cross; to descend into the depths of forsakenness, for love of us, his crucifiers.
Lord, what dimension could hold the depths of your forgiveness? Like clouds through the cage of sky you permeate all things. You rise from the dead and bring the dead to life. Your incomprehensible and radical love always pushing back the boulders before the vast and black tombs of our hearts.