The nails were pounded into his hands and feet. Cold brittle men beating on cold brittle spikes. Blood flowed freely through the open aching crevices in his flesh. A tangled crown of thorns was thrust upon his head. The warm salty mixture of blood and sweat dripped down his swollen face. His naked body, weakened and shredded by the scourgings, was lifted into place on this erect wooden stake. A nauseating convulsion forced its way through his body. Driven by the need for air, he strained against gravity's grip in order to partially fill his collapsed chest. his body had become a bruised canvas, painted with hideous strokes of pain. All the sins of a hurting world were now his. The memory of ridicule and denial broke his faltering heart still more. He carried the burden of eternity on his shoulders. Love submitted to pain. It was his gift. Hanging on a bloodied cross for you even if you were the only one on this earth.