marked by dead gods for some archaic purpose,
left in the floatsam and jetsam of human progress;
suspended between worlds--
a bridge to realms forsaken.
left only with fits and convulsions and a highwire mind
spanning antipodes that collect dust in eternity.
would there have been a reason in a different time,
a different place?
would the pain be a spring of healing for the sick rather than
a stagnant pool, breeding disease?
home is found with allies that have been burned in the
inquisition's fires, names smeared in shit.
he brings them no gold so they dub him bereft.
refusing coin for blasphemy he seeks patience
to await his own decay.