I can see him.
I can see him.
That Bishop.
He walked out and stood, he slapped me and he cleared up my vision, with a full garb and staff, looking like a relic, looking like a monument.
I can see him.
His dry clay etched face, he's ALIVE in there, standing stiff staring, stoic totem knowing,
standing in the depth of a dark angry ocean, and his sheep huddle close, because, there be monsters here, creeping in a hurry.
And the ancients can see too, calling out from their perches, way back there, in the long
dark past.
They call out begging.
To the modern man,
"Look!
Look and see!
Morality -IS- Physics!"
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