This Month's Prophet

Lonely as the sea in its sighing solitude,
He meanders slumberous city sidewalks,
That have never before seemed quite so...
Cold.
Bitter. Frost splinters, crunching under aimless feet.
Cobweb memories drifting, sifting, slipping with the silken winter's flurry.
His mind cherishes nothing,
And he kneels before none:
~bUT tHe EphEMeRaL aLtaR oF tHe iNFiDeL~
Each shifting current of thought floats away, writhing in glacial ribbons of smoke,
Tapering on haunted moth-wings into a wounded urban sky.
~eVEn tHe hEArtLeSs WaYS oF HeAVeN dO SOmEtIMeS bLEeD~
A map of furrowed lines anoints his face,
Painted by Time - that invisible assailant,
And secret Saviour of humanity.
Saw-edged horizons dance and shimmer as they fade,
Sinking beneath the world's midnight rim,
Like Noah's Ark departing.
Longing for the touch of destiny, he watches,
Like a rat, left behind to drown,
~jUSt aNoTHeR pApER CuP, sUrFInG tHE wAvES oF RuIN~
Figures pass him by,
A thousand strangers' red pulsing hearts, unable to pierce his private sphere,
A faceless mist of souls, drifting ever on,
Yet they are his children, in so many ways...
The fat and pleasant seeds he has sown and nourished.
~yET WhAT dOEs a ShEPherD tRUlY cARe fOR hIs FLoCk?~
His past is a cloaked and hooded diablo, an abomination beneath the sun,
A twisted, obsidian soul that casts no shadow,
And is best left...
Shrouded.
He awaits his silent reckoning,
His absolution.
Though there is no Eden fair enough...
~nO dUNgEoN dEEp eNOuGh~
No chains to contain such obedient sedition.
Beyond salvation, and immune to damnation,
With a smile like splintered ice,
This Month's Prophet shambles, surprisingly swift,
~fOR hE sTOLe tHE WiND fROm bENeAtH tHe wINgS oF a dOVe...~
Into the night.