The end of ‘The broken road’

I have become a hermit in a caved-out eerie
at the end of the peninsula of Mount Athos
with little more ledge than Simeon Stylites’ pillar
wherein or upon which I spend endless days and wilder nights
in solitary confinement not to mention heretical cogitation
of the deity I have long worshipped
hoping against hope that in fabulous visions
she will show herself and join with her ascetic
in moments of ecstasy so stretched out
that they make a mockery
both of creation and eternity


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