The Sixth Lesson

The Sixth Lesson is Damnation


He speaks horrors and tragedies like a vulture
spilling carrion from the corners of its beak –


here is blood and here is flesh
and hear these words, my friend;
these sacraments I found in the desert over Israel,
these sins, here, taken from the arms on Corcovado;
where the shadows of the race beat like maggots in their hollow;
where the mighty plunge their sword into the sky, bellow
"Take me with you! Take me with you!;"
Eager eyes, but nothing more;
the proud have nothing left to give –  but that skeleton,
oh, that lonesome, brave old skeleton,
he sweeps them up and kisses their filthy, sinful cheeks;
for what? You don't deserve this;
neither did He.
for who? There is no gatekeeper, these days,
and the mote is filled with festered things,
putrid things, your kind would dare to cross,
though; your kind would pay no heed.
You're filthy. That's the rub, my friend,
the good, old-fashioned truth – you're filthy.
And that feeble thing atop the mountain has grown dark
with the ashes of your filth.

He bobs his head and his eyes gleam like drops of oil,
his tongue and teeth and lips are slick with fetid gore –


But we've met before, have we not?
I can smell it on you, yes.
Far in our pasts we met;
I tried to help you see things as they were,
revealed to you a bitter truth that still,
still, now, you've yet to thank me for;
though perhaps you've just forgotten
what I look like;
how to find me.
I have since traded scale for feather,
for your race has traveled far,
and I was forced to follow, hungry;

Again, he bobs;
talons dig like wire through the mud at his feet and the air is ripe
with the scent of rancid things –


yes, yes, these are truths, my friend,
though you think a thing like me can merely
lie to you;
you're wrong, and then again, that's the rub –
always wrong, always wrong.
He made you that way.
Made you flawed and weak and damned
so maybe in the darkness He could find you,
patch you up, kiss your cheeks
and make you love Him.
You think a thing like me can merely lie,
but, oh, my sins, at least, are only scrapes upon the surface
of the soul;
deceit does not even break the skin, you know, my friend.
But pride? But glory?
This conceit – conceit that He passed on, to you?
I did not make you to worship me, my friend,
and you'll remember this someday.
Yes, you'll remember, probably,
when your days are gone and the sun has dried you up
and His teachings, forlorn blessings, make you weak
and ripe
and fresh for the taking,
when your Father has forsaken you.
Yetoma!; yes, we'll see each other
then, again;
when I am there to eat you up.
But for now, my friend, my equal, my kin,
I have business to attend to
on the far side of the world.
There are skeletons that glut the streets,
and who can pick clean the bones,
if I am not there?
Well, yes, I'll see you soon.

I'll see you soon, my friend.

The Sixth Lesson is Damnation