He Could Not Help But Love

I think upon the sight of him
the ruggedness of well worn and treading soles to mingle with earthly soil
and the dusty spread of his calloused hands, human fingers raking
through the thickness of human hair, untamed and unkept, and being tossed by the wind
so boldly coursing around him, to graze his flesh that was sacred in disguise
and to feather the tear-struck cheeks, kissed by the sun, and by the Creator before he was sent
to dwell there among the vilest of men, and among
the unsaved and unforgiven souls who knew not but anger and hate, greed and envy
and when he paused to look on them
to let his eyes travel up and down the sinful, malicious bodies of evil,
he could not help but love them, and could not help
but break with compassion, at the sight of them becoming what he cannot look on
and we ask him why such mercy he would bestow upon them, and why
he would choose to descend from on high, that he may enter into
their world that shunned him
why he would walk the dusty paths of the earth... temptation, unguided
why he would partake of the daily food of the people... poison, venom
why he would speak with the masters of deceit... hatred, lies
why he would teach the unteachable
why he would bear the unbearable
why he would touch the untouchable
why he would die for the ones who wished death on him
and he says it was because he could not help but love them.