YOUR BROTHER’S BLOOD CRIES OUT.
IT WILL NOT BE HIDDEN.
IT RISES FROM THE EARTH
LIKE LOST PASSION,
FREED FROM THE SERPENT’S MOUTH.

THE MOTHER WEPT FOR BOTH.
THE FATHER IMPLORED HEAVEN
TO SPARE ONE AND MARK HIM.
THE FIRST DEATH, THE FIRST JUDGMENT
MADE A HOME FOR THE DEMON,
MADE A TEMPLE FOR HIM.

GOD STRUCK THE FLESH MARK
TO SHOW IT WAS HIS WORK,
NOT CRAFT OF THE DARKNESS.

HE FASHIONED IT AS LIGHTNING BRIGHT,
AS ONE WITH NO SEPARATE PART.
A CRY IN THE WIND, ONE WORD.

NO MAN MAY DISTURB HIM
WHEN HE SEES THE BRAND THERE.
HIS HAIR AS WHITE AS SNOW.
HE REAPS A HARVEST OF REMORSE.

HIS EYES WITHOUT EXPRESSION,
AS IF BLIND, BUT MUCH THEY KNOW,
TIED TO THE SAVAGE EARTH BY BLOOD.
THE YEARS FALL OFF LIKE SAND.

THE BODY THAT GAVE PRAISE,
BESIDE HIS EQUAL BROTHER,
BETRAYS HIM.

HE WALKS A SILENT LAND,
AS FAR TO THE EAST
AS MEMORY LASTS FROM EDEN.