Walking the back roads
of a cold county,
the semi’s laughing

from the interstate
that lies behind.
Daring to break

the laws I
created, comprehending
for the first time the pull

of history
as it comes rushing by
like rain.

My feet, neither tired or sore,
still ask my hands
to flag a ride

back to the ruins
of a temple
I destroyed.

Will the lambs accept my reason,
my plea to finally 
have an answer

or will they crawl toward me
like the clouds, throwing
stones instead of lightning.



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