The Upstroke Of Lightning

A smattering chatter
revealed the prophet
to be a fool – a beggar –
a panderer to fear –
for bread, mercy or
perhaps, if luck
ensued – loose coin,
too much a pittance
for counting.

And upon the city,
the Lord of Wraths,
expunged of fatherly
duties, crushed
upon his children,
the light that was

Acrid wheezings then
and fuming,
ascended the ramps
to heaven
and cast that demon out.

Image: Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash

3 Thoughts

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