I, in full light of darkness and my sin still bold in the sheets, awoke to a frightening glare of justice. Alas! A cry of pending doom, loomed through the morning light that uncovered the colours of my iniquity. "My day has finally come"- says my heart, as I am dragged through the streets of ever growing crowds. My eyes shot at every passing figure, trying to recognise a face for any last words. But the tears would blur my vision again and again, leaving me with the anticipation of a lonely death. Thrown to the ground before a crowd armed with stones, I hold my head with my face to the dust, stung by the harshness of words too hard to decipher. "She was caught in the very act, and is worthy of death. What sayest thou?" To whom did they speak? I lift my head ever so slightly only to see A Finger writing in the sand. "The law says, stone to the death for punishment. What sayest thou?" An already restless crowd growing even more agitated. But who is this man to whom they speak, that seem to command the course of my fate? A glimpse of curiosity awakes from the bed of fear, and so I raise my eyes to behold the face of the Sand Writer. Our eyes get locked in a heart piercing gaze, as my sins seem to lie bare before This Stranger. If my own could scarcely appear, who would advocate for me, if nothing, a less painful death? In a minute that lasted an eternity, He gazed. I died a thousand times before He autered a word; "if there be any sinless amongst you, let him cast the first stone". I hear the voice but cannot understand the words. 'Cast the first stone?'- I brace myself, hoping that the first would knock enough life out of me to numb me to the rest. As I stood to put to play my plan, He stooped again to write on sand. Tup! Tup! Tup! The sound of stones droping to ground. Whispers grumbling in the air as feet move here and there. I jerk at every sound, wandering why nothing is touching me. Further and further away, lesser and lesser the sounds I hear as the beating of my heart grows louder and louder. What is this deafening silence? What is this free blowing breeze around my clenched fists? I take up my head, open my eyes to see what is withholding my accusers. No one! No one? Where did they all go to? Alone in this temple court I am. Alone with the Sand Writer still writing on sand. "Woman!" He called out to me, my eyes now swelling with a new kind of tears. "Where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee?" He said, rising again to meet my tears. "No man Lord!" I cry, falling to my knees, unsure what was happening. Compassion flow from His gaze like a living river. The kindness of His heart seem to speak from His face even before He auters a word. "Neither do I condemn thee. I came not to condemn the world but to save it". The tears now gush out like twin waterfalls aided by a shout of mercy. Who counted me worthy of such compassion and mercy? I crawl to His feet and kiss them with tears-wet lips, unsettled by a love that sets even the filthiest free. Gentle Hands raise me to my feet. Warm arms hold me in kind embrace. "Go! And sin no more!" Was the last He said before He stooped again to write on sand.