Rock art by Tim Christensen
Walking to the bus stop
It's cold
so I stop for a warm beverage.
Your evil friend brews himself along
with the tea bag and I stare at the horrible slideshow
of decaying faces and drink it down, though I realize now it
would have been better to freeze than to have let him occupy my
body in this way. The gospel is about the danger of worshipping false
idols made of iron and clay—the inner world of a single artist.
Released from the wickedness of standby mode, I spot a man's
dark glowing eyes deflect the crowd to rest with mine.
Please know it is you that I see. You who
cannot steer me wrong. You who came
down as the same kind of creature
to quell our doubt through
undeniable love
and mercy.
