He did not believe in pain
That holy sacrament
And ever after
When they asked of him,
Wandering in the market shirtless
And laughing
Asked to beg of the soul
Its proper recompense
Asking for that already given
When all else
Is laid away
In graves of ashes
Like ashes birthed of fire
Like seeds to germinate
To germ and flower
And speak only of the future