On Saturday, I punked out and ran off to the hills to take photos. I did not complete my chore list for the weekend, but I like these two photos. I have some others of the Mary that I may like better, but this is the one I am picking for the moment.
It was a bit odd getting into my car when I was done and hearing on the radio that the Pope died while I was taking pictures in a Catholic Cemetary.
An old poem...
On display for all to see
A dying man, ages past
Martyred upon the blasted, burning heights
Sorrows drain from the taut man's eyes
As carrion creatures pull at his muscles
As insects burrow into his fingernails
As birds shit on his limp figure
As dogs watch, awaiting his revival
As serene sirens tempt others to
I wash my hands.
Upon death's playground, bodies rot; skulls dry
And a man dies, his tears falling
Upon the thirsty dust of ancient monuments and bones,
To be carried away by a lying breeze
Towards the future...
A man dies upon the cross.