Ultimately the god was
created by man, and Homo sapiens died.
A trembling voice said, I am not dead.
There was a poem without
a poet. Who writes the epitome of
ancien engraving onto the walls of time .
There was a holy crime.
Golden in the eyes of a song of blood
in the lone home on fire.
Although I cannot fully
Although I cannot fully agree, theologically, with the first two lines, I am still very impressed by the poem itself.
J-Called