VII. The Pilgrimage

Contours of love-tears reflexing, in short,
silence. Millions of silence hid under the
facade of one person's farewell. Lawn
guarded us all with appropriate awe.
Was it crying or runny noses that fugued
with the sermon -- and did Heaven mind
that Hell shook periodically in the form
of a subway? Temple rises in a
middle of your universe which is not on
the map while mobile it is. In dismay,
Pilgrim 143 shredded his return ticket
and removed one ridiculous article of
clothing after another. In a moment
akin to drowning, 5 million flashbulbs
erupted as the sacrifice became a
reality. With the strength of a planetary
law, our Master heaved the well-deserving
pilgrim between the ambulances, and in a
conflagration of needles and tire skids, he
discovered life eternal. We cried happy as we
noticed that now we knew beauty, and
the pilgrimage was a grand idea. Our
Master was polite and sparked our
imagination while kindling our thirst
for life. As buses waited like underaged
boys at a strip-joint, we understood
that we were never going to return,
and our Master spoke exquisitely.
This mobile paradise, unending pilgrimage,
was everything. In the valley, 5 million
flashbulbs realized a moment alone, and
in an erupted drowning we discovered
life eternal.

Rome -- late March, 1989

©Evan Hause