Unpunctuated Cain

The immortal transformation enjoints the time again,
A raveling succession between days, creation stories unbounding freedoms

An imaginative threshold that bespeaks the robbery of a heavenly house, bereft of precious items as on the sight of diluvian waters

Dissolving aether into wooden panels as to grant a distant future view of the present that unfolds today before a mirror, reflects turning points in the journey from which you cannot recover yourself and of your own accord

The delay of a loveless present that softens the hinges but never knocks on the door, thoroughly occupying stale spaces, overthrowing old deities that shouldn't have arrived until the genesis of time

Whose birth awakens not with the serene death of a prophet, but before the despair over the disacknowledgement of his own fate

And Cain, Eve's son, weary from the night, finds shelter in a blind image that can no longer provoke suffering, an ecstasic rapture in the numb twilight that sleeps away to salvation and in ageing paleness awaits the opaque present

This violates the rules of his innermost fires, twitching the strings of time toward a crude silent reality that cannot mourn over death or foe, it can only gladden before the vanishing bliss of a crime

His thick fingers are thrown into a painting and set on a pilgrimage from church to church, searching for the chair of the false Messiah, only to make sure he couldn't go through the door

Setting himself as an example of survival, while the light shines always some place else

The painting weeps sand and prophet never dares look at it, lest he believe it might be improved upon

Cain wishes for his death until the moment of revelation, where's shaped into himself by a painful crushing of the earth, the wet earth releases death and only now is Cain home

He's choked by love, of his own yet he desires to the point of turning into his brother and be set upon the deadly blow

He wishes for the transformation again, of the memory into the dream and of the eternal present into resolute truth

But moment hardly arrives, for his own sake

He must remain aloof and estranged, scattered and pragnant from the hope of a prophet that must certainly hang from the thread that lightly holds death, life, completes a circle

Terrorized by expectation, innocently but surely amazed, intoxicated, furnishing solace

The house is at once set on fire, where it encounters the love of the man who unjointed time

This grandiose confusion overturns the waters again and set Noah on the journey home

The banal miracles of this lonely enterprise are what bewilders the man about his companion, Cain's, who knew no justice or love

He only unveiled the scorn, there was no companion at all