the wheel turns,
the chandelier swings,
and chains only break when mad men decide to break them.
life isn’t some sort of gambler’s paradise,
nor is it a puppet show.
life isn’t linear,
no donkey interpreted the words of the angel for me,
i was the donkey.
the prophet beat me,
but still i spoke with a golden tongue,
endowed by the Holy One.
i thought this made me a king,
but after the matter,
i was returned to the stable and was stayed with the other donkeys.
thomas asked to see his wounds,
yet i ask to see the blood still pouring.
violent cross of beauty,
i will believe your testimony,
the earth still has not forgotten that day when it drank the blood of its maker.