Benediction
He is the one
Doing the provisioning
For lost souls
Waiting to be beckoned
He is the shining
Knight of the forecast
Caressing the children
And setting them down gently
He is the metal chink
Of a bucket of fresh water
Parching the throats
That do not drink from it
He is the one
Doing the corralling
Of sheepsmen like sheep
Of goatmen like goats
Drunk on the story
He marches as a crusader
For all the insignificance
And history of a bubble
He is the hero
She cries after him
Ay Llorona,
Do not weep for that man
He, who lays claim
To living forever
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