The face of god looked down on the church of the petrified tree where a demon knelt in the black mud, the tears of his breakdown streaking silver cracks on the fragile surface of his face.
The face of god in the moon, its expression, as one would expect, was stern and indifferent, its eyes were cold as fish, and they watched wearily, as if unsure of the nature of their duty to this moment.
When last did god give wise council or order up a sacrifice, a child to be bisected on the alter of his wisdom or the blood of some lamb to paint the sky with the certainty and steadfast proof of his jealous power? How long since he’d lost interest in his toys? Minutes? Hours? Millennia?
The movement of the stars time-lapsed streaks of light across the frosty night, their fires long lost to the age of man that in Earth-time measures in blighted seconds, a cancer on the skin of her verdant green face.
The face of god in the moon, its expression, as one would expect, was stern and indifferent, its eyes were cold as fish, and they watched wearily, as if unsure of the nature of their duty to this moment.
When last did god give wise council or order up a sacrifice, a child to be bisected on the alter of his wisdom or the blood of some lamb to paint the sky with the certainty and steadfast proof of his jealous power? How long since he’d lost interest in his toys? Minutes? Hours? Millennia?
The movement of the stars time-lapsed streaks of light across the frosty night, their fires long lost to the age of man that in Earth-time measures in blighted seconds, a cancer on the skin of her verdant green face.
1 comment:
it touchs me soul i may have to put my poem that sings to this one on my blog sometime
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