One person, alone. Hanging on the most recognised of objects, bleeding for the world.
He turns his head to the clear skies above and smiles through his pain. He knows it's for their own good. He feels no resentment.
He doesn't know yet if what he has done on the short time he has been on the earth has done any good in the long term. The miracles, the gifts, the hope… he prays it does. Maybe he will be completely forgotten in a few years, he doesn't yet know.
He's dying alone, in intense pain, and he's hated by an uncountable number of people. It sounds like no worse a death has ever been heard of.
He will learn otherwise.
That day, as Jesus Christ hung dying on the cross, he did not yet know of the hundreds of people who wept and prayed to a God that they did not know of until him.
They prayed for someone who was what every human being could be, if they tried.
But we all know the world doesn't work like that.
Though because of this man millions across the world do their best to walk in his footsteps and live in a way that not only betters themselves, but betters the world.
AN: So, yea, I'm not normally religion orientated but I was struck by inspiration. I hope you like it. Please review. :)