The cat had the feral
look. The home was
burning. Drag of
day to day dying
unceremoniously.

Nowadays the god lives outside
the temple. You don't have patience.
Some zealotry?
A siren song?

I was not in any trinity
of god, man and beast.
On the remote trail you will
find my blood-soaked footprints.

Instead of emptiness
I have filled myself with grief.