He is neither hue nor leucoplain.
No, not mean, just humane.
Hatch to good codes
And harsh to misconduct.
A delight to the grey; a connecting figure.

One of a kind, non-gossiper,
Door keeper to secrets kept.
Not proud of pride.
Cardiac chamber…mon ami:
succour for the low.

His every step is marked on slates
whispered around in shadowy sheds
The grandson of a devout
Who stood his ground
against the horseman and his sword.

Reviled by the sharers of same chalice.
His good, their acrimony;
His smile, their scowl.
“Why spread his hand thus?
We, too, are Abrahams”.

He feared not for his blood
‘cause the Lamb is on His post.
A slap to Prophet False
who creeps into innocent homes
And peeps through frail shrouds.

Dark apprentice called “daddy”
Drunk on mystical drinks: green-eyed monster
Whose sneeze is snuffed
By his knees that humble not.
Chained, yet darts at the dear.

But the lonely believer staggers on
Eyes gazed on the path.
His conscience is a witness.
A clean heart he offers
To whom his spirit answers.