The Last Dead End at the Town Limit of Huron

All the words I wrote realized in fruition

The lightning bolt - your crucifix in actuality

Five years past due, for I waited

To never taste, nor touch, nor love

The trumpets blared at the procession

For what solidified the separation

The yearning never ceased

as the mileage on the CRV doubled

Every fifth I waited outside your old house

with the bouquet of what once existed via satellite

over Mount Olivet

Perspiration and fermentation

My expired carcass died for you every mourning

when the cicadas burrowed

The Alps were a falsehood of mine

Materialized in a long shot to escape you

Friendship, kinship, & brotherhood

Who was I ever to thee?

A Pauper, A Jester, A Dreamer (From a town which no longer exists)

In the courtyard of the villa I stood

Counting cobblestone

Burnt my retinas as I solidified into

a relic from a bygone era

The nights foretold carved onto tablets

Preached from your altar

Who were the last believers?

Extinction came through rubble & plague I searched

To find all which ever existed was a pictorial fragmentation

The mirage oasis of our silhouettes

Glistening in the cornfields

For my writings never sanctified a fortitude of safety

Beyond the grasps of those who feared what came when the tides crashed