Spiral path

Hollow is the sound of forgiveness.
Two thousand years, yet still we wait.
Follow down the setting sun, show us
now that only at the end can a new
beginning come.

In procession we follow, fed lies.
Travelling a path made stony
by our passing.

In hand we walk with the devil,
our hardened hearts beat a hollow
drum. Following the spiral path,
tracing each year gone. Then at
the start, a new year marked
by the rising sun.