Poems

Our Grim Pilgrim

He journeys to where he has not been
To find that with which we all begin
In a weathered world where truth is dead
And nobody bothers bury it

We deftly deceive the deities
While resolute, our grim pilgrim, he
Confronts the holy the dark the odd
The ghost of a bygone mortal god

His comforts made sacred sacrifice
Erase the shadows from failing night
He drinks deep the ether of our dreams
We, vain violent loving fearing fiends

He will wander even in sojourn
To divine his human borders burnt
A pilgrim then through ruin and smoke
Thus builds him a sheer and simple home–
–among sheer and simple folk.