Lazarus A dark pulse thundered, and the earth seethed in panic. Distant, the sound of wailing throats trickled down my hole. Like an infant, I grasped at the radiant face before me. How could I spurn his summons? How could I flee his liquid hands? I wished him with me always. I craved him more than breath restored. The days of lightening that followed drenched my soul like a desert storm. Wrapped in misty fabric, I drank of the heavens. Clothed in the wind, I plunged his mysteries until his trade blew him cross the Jordan. Who can see my barren flesh, and not know? Without his moist touch, life itself is death.
Reason for writing:
Amazement @ reading "The Secret Gospel of Saint Mark".
Birth sign: Not entered
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