Stories

 Born out of straw and what people saw child without a flaw

A baby mystery without history under a star of awe

Words remembered long after, by a book crafter said

Transfigured wine, walked on the brine, then rose from the dead

Pages from many books, taped together while time cooks 

Some discarded the rest holy regarded, here on his side two crooks

No further plans he overlooks his fans standing on a nail 

His perch of wood raised above the crowd, now pale

He listens to their cheers below no one hears a word

A vulture turned dove a symbol of love becomes the other third

A cover song of an angel with lyrics they couldn't remember

Auto tuned and pitch corrected his performance they dismember