my trembling and tottering all around and within me
prompt me to turn towards you
like my cacti to the sun
but you remain silent
unknowable despite all
my years of seeking you through
the many mythos and philosophia
floating like rain clouds in the oikumene
but did i not see you gazing
in the direction of nazareth
the man wearing only a loin cloth
booted out from this world
so i turn to him in hope
only to find him emptying
his wallet and his soul
leaving no room for bloating
he permits only heaven’s winds
to bring whispers to his whisperings
and clouds to float him back into that
nothingness the world battles to fill
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