I came not but a beggar
I walked over the threshold of doubt and
it would not let me rest till I answered
everyone of it's questions
The monster pushed me into a pit of fire
I yelled, pain forcing my eyes shut.

He comes from above, arms outstretched, holding a cup.
He then threw water onto me and said
go forth!
tell all who stare at the stars from inside their hearts
that a place is made where doubt shall be perished.
I jumped up
the ant's will think it's raining
but it is joy.
For He is my cup
it is my connection to a sword
much stronger than I.
I turn and run
forward into my backward direction
the air yielding before my footsteps
parting for my shouts
They carry my voice to all corners of the world
be glad, for He is here
I tell the elderly who shuffle and push the children about
with their books and dirty hair
I tell the women
pushing their sons into the fields and
their daughters into a stove
I tell the men, hoo-hawing and yes man-ing
They are all joyous, for He is here

A cloud forms over my head
it's body breaks and gives birth
quenching my hair
it is relieved and falls down upon my head
My eyes look
but no one else see's
the Sun is gone.
Nobody feels the wind pushing all around,
the shovels and fences are moved about,
the animals, they holler and scream,
there eyes are ready to pop out.
Nobody see's the horizon closing in,
pushing the ground up and higher,
till it covers the sky
a dirt blanket,
thousands of feet high

Nobody knows that I will die not alone
but loveless, tired, dreary, curious.
Hark! A feather!
I flip it between my fingers, squeezing.
I have not my cross to give my blood to
so I stab my hand with the feather
My blood drips to the ground
it slides along the feather
giving the needles new color

I throw the quill to the ground
and watch the cloud move around
I kick the feather away to watch
as if it were chained
the cloud move away

The horizon is nearly upon me
like a death ring forced around my neck
I cannot stand it any longer
I throw the quill into what is no more here
The horizon folds in onto itself
Forever I watch the horizon consume itself

Forever the elderly know that the moral is only a beginning
Forever the women know that the end is hungry
Forever the men know that the question to be asked
is the simplest one of all