Lent        

 

A modicum of comfort

Casts a shadow on eternity.

A ghost that grows and blinds and spreads

Pausing at the gates of hell.

It crosses beams that send

The holy man to God

While the pit grows deeper,

The pendulum sways,

And skull hill rots away.

I am the voice of him

Who cries in the desert.

My tears that fall are soon to dry for

The sun is high and distance-wise with venomous rays

Poisoning, so to speak, my soul.