Then he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw.
And because no nation thrives without capital,
he set a star in this world and drew a circle round.
Though no trace of his print exists, the moon,
hills, and trees all reveal his glory in the garden.
Surveying his heart, unreliable landmarks slept
in shadows as he found himself alone. Doubled down
an angel from heaven attended him and gave him strength
and he pounded his fist against his chest
to ensure everyone spoke the grammar of his love—
his kingdom inaugurated with beads of blood
pouring forth from the power of prayer aglow.
Standing against the threat of the devil’s deception,
when he got up from prayer, he came to them
a map flashing open from his mouth, the way
tumbling forth as a single beam of light sped
toward the chasm where silence bears his name.