Neither grave, nor the gravity,
Could hold Him down.
That cross, though heavy,
Not heavy enough,
Nor could it ever be.
A temporary thing,
A passage, passing with time,
The Begotten not gone.

That stone, though big,
Not big enough,
Nor could it ever be.
A temporary thing,
A passage, passing with time.
The Begotten hidden,
Not seen, not heard,
But certainly not gone.

Then, Easter.
Arriving between the quiet,
Entering amid the stillness,
And everything changes.
Everything becomes new again,
In the remembering of what is.
Nothing ever stronger than What was,
What is, and What shall ever be.

Just as Light cannot be kept from shining,
And Truth, refusing to remain hidden,
There is no greater shield or power than that created by Creator.
We are more than passengers on borrowed time.
More than temporary things or passages, passing with time.
And in Him, with Him, and thru Him,
Neither grave, nor the gravity,
Can hold us down.