The Untold Story of the Wandering Madman ~ Thursday, July 2, 2026

Long ago, over fourteen billion years
on another planet, just like the Earth
not overpopulated by humans
given the opportunity, I left

and came to, what was then, the Sahara
given the verdant beauty at the time
old and gray, I wrote a book, a fiction

only no one knew how to interpret
visions I saw of four men, whom I knew
empty-headed followers of a man
riddles profound, they wrote four chronicles

four narratives of uncertain events
over the centuries, millenia
under scrutiny, four stories became
real, not true, but an honest depiction
terror of the foreign, one man, I wrote
entered the vernacular of worship
entered the deification of man
no more a man than a flesh and blood god

bones broken to make him vulnerable
in each account, stories differed widely
left to the imagination, to faith
little were the events questioned, believed
in the context of magical thinking
onion skins used as parchment, or vellum
not to harm another animal, words

yes, important to those human beings
entering into consciousness, language
as transmission, the vehicle of thought
rested solely on speeches by this man
son of what I would refer to as God