he crawls along the edge
of the earth    enmeshed within a clew
of worms    creeps methodically
crimson belly impacted with sludge

the smallest turns to him     are
you the prophet we have prayed
for
or are you the demon that
cloaks in his shadow

he presses his claws deep into the slough
rises slowly      wings expand     feathers spread
wide and long     tips his beak down ever
so slightly      flattens eyes 

oh     dear     little     one
i am most certainly the prophet 

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