Often, as I pray, kneeling before Mass, I close my eyes and envision Jesus, crowned with thorns, standing before me in white and golden vestments. We are together, in a darken room, almost a corridor of sorts, and I am staring at Him intently, longing for His forgiveness. I can see His thorns, prominently on top of His head , looking almost regal, like a mighty King. I can see His lips being swallowed up by His shaggy beard, and even His rough, wounded hands, but never can I see His eyes! His eyes are always covered by the shadows of the darken room, seeming to hide from me.