Alone in the girth of thought…
treading into the badlands and the good.
I make a pilgrimage pass the stations of the cross.
A pair of still in life…eyes, watching my every move.
After a deep contemplation…sin is what it is…synthetic.
I am not the carpenter of this ill-fated altar!
Cardinal wine and jewels and mythology shun me.
What is constructed has been done so…
In eulogy to the…Father.