The man who wasn’t there.

In awe,

with out looking I saw

him there,

before me,

Sun blazing at it’s Zenith as a halo around his hooded form,

hands held out beside him…


(Thus he came to me, silent, waiting.)

With out looking I saw the blood dripping,


rich red,

dripping from the wounds in those hands,

dripping down his palm and dripping from his middle finger,

on to the ground..

just there before me,


waiting he saw with out looking,

me watching without sight,

waiting for the eye to see,

without seeing…

Palms! though I, as he patiently waited, have minor chakras, as do feet, and what is the significance chiromancers give to the middle finger?

With out thinking I copied his pose – one hand in the Sun,

the other in the shade…


my blood,

began dripping from wounds in my palms,

dark oozing and black onto the earth.

Healing through sacrifice …

with out looking,

I saw him quietly leave.



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