The Prophet - Son of Nun

( It seems the only thing eternal life has left me is eternal tears. For my lost son Christopher; named after the god who suffers. ) I knew you before I met you cage crossing through mad books your stainless leap forcep-blessed matrix-reprieved weaving bled-shred embers to god-pled braving the cairn of night to do full dubious ends god's just flung to hijacked earth as after-thought of finer stone slashed lash skin broke to Moses hues whose mode struck cursed to sudden wander to tower-armed berths annexed next in your voyeur's finger rage to run abducted through heuristic sunk-end heads and sacrifice your brokered queen prove your tongue-burning tears a strangled pen inched favor from chain-shell shouts sieved by sheltering friends savaged the race-card feeds fouled in chilling fidgets glyphed everyman's advance to cherish one ascending giving divinity thought-shadow charges to dodge doc's sunny reparteé finally bipolar glue-power unclogs the gash cherish your psyche's wormwood-hack your peace-ink cooling blue your snow-truth judgement bridged with one bank and a gun whose prophet son of none _________________ Notes: 1. A journalist once asked the Dalai Lama if he had to reduce the teachings of Buddhism to one word, what would it be. His response was; "Compassion". If asked to do the same for Christianity, my word, similarly, would be: "Kindness".