If we are held to our worst capacities, and if our’s is akin to that of any humans’ —of which we are one–– then I suppose the worst of man is in each man, and the worst of any of us, in us all. And if we ossify our brothers in their wartime painted shame, and na’er wash their wares nor warring from guilty palms, if we fearfully dare not the forgetfulness of Christ and to smile at our own harm knowing it is not our’s nor our neighbor’s but that of Desire and her devils who dance between us, having chosen that human jig instead of renouncing our very Selves as we are commanded, then I suppose also myself to lie longways in the cold shadow of sacrifice, head to foot with each man before and after me, and separate too as the first from the last, all shrouded in the shared curse of the ages, our very separation from God —from one another, and lastly; to speak of the shadow it’s length to we who stack ourselves and our morals like styrofoam cups at our cheapest in-laws’ Thanksgivings’ (disposably I mean); a tree so tall and casting, he bends ’round the sky and casts his day long shadow o’er every eye. I wish us more fleet afoot, more adept a dance with life, a renewal, a twirl, a flourish, a chance at flight; without these, we are all that word’s very meaning, and doomed to such solitude as the sin-cast scapegoat from his dear tribe, and just as confused by his, our, isolation. Do we not ask in ever-hushed collective quiet amongst our sinner selves, from the eyes if not the lips, to each man we meet, “My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?” I am a desperate sinner, I am a failed Greek, my virtue betrays my marrow, my god is dead, and so too soon are his children, for they demand to dance with life and death, they demand their turn in the round, and if the music portends to pause, we will make it with our own loud and god damned clamor, our vengeful memories and retributions. May God rest our weary souls and wrestle them from our fingers too green from gain. Pin our devils down and speak peace to our ears that our hearts may dance all the more. May we dare ourselves forgetful. May we forgo penance paid. May we forgive our brothers, and ourselves the rhythm of the night. May we seek the day, the deus––the light.