indeterminate in the paling light
regarded the horizon like some crepuscular specimen
escaped altogether from reality
he cast a beggarly figure dressed in rags like some banished King
his future once bright was now dismal as a tragedian
from the verses of the Bard
the Gods were nowhere to be found in his strange universe
he waited for the dawn and died in the night alone as a star
he answered to the name of Man
Flynnpoetry 
Is this Christ’s Passion? Beautiful MH
Sent from my iPad
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It could be interpreted that way for sure Marek, I had not thought of that, more a generic comment on existence really. It was a bit too bleak to publish I fear but the fates can be merciless and fickle.
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