The Miles Further

From the tracks

Make

The crucifixion

Seem

Like an obsolete

Stream of obscene

Stupidity.

It all becomes hazy

On this pillow;

Surrounded by candles

And

The harmonization

Is a fleeting

Intricacy

That floats delicately

Across the palms of my open hands.

My ears sip the sleek night;

I see the stars

Inside

A near-stranger's

Eyes.

And the mystery

Reminds me that I am

Real.