I was praying to Him.
Every evening I stood on my knees in front of the altar and say my pray.
I always hope that he listen, and mercifully will give me a forgiveness of my sin.
My brother, he is the priest, told me that even twelfth could have had to get amnesty of that what he did if he only ask for it in pray, putting all his mind and heart and soul in it.
But sometimes I think, he was the sacrifice bigger and brighter then Son.
He was the one from whom the real story begins and one who lose his soul in the name of the King.
Of course the one who was so important will be heard and given with forgiveness.But who am I instead?
What had I done to obtain the love?
I’m not a sacrifice, nor saint, I am not a villain who with repentance will tear clothes on his chest, and not a righteous one who obeys the law, which is carved on the tablets of the heart.
I’m the one who ask for mercy but staying with a cold heart which can’t forgive itself.
I will stand on my knees one more time, asking forgiveness, not for what I did but for those that will be done.
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