The Man bled out and spake down wild eternities of time

he vaunted the fishes and the loaves and other remedies to solve fate

to slake hunger

they seemed incongruous as his last gasping prayer

as if no victory illuminated any futured faith he preached

nor its past

incognizant of hope

the Man spake

pale corridors of silence his censor

and the sick were near healed until death stoked their limbs afire to vapoured pieces stark in the desert

an incineration

and the Sun indifferent and wild and blind in the night

recognised no sainted pilgrim

nor the moon in its strange circles cared