“The Gospel of Mark (11:8,888)”

The Gospel of Mark Peacock

Chapter 11, verse 8 thousand, 8 hundred, eighty-eight.

Yes, the Homily on the Hill.

It reads...

Dearest sisters in the cistern,

Salutations brethren in arms.

Know that this day, I will not preach, nor any other after.

However, allow me to fund these going words with your attention

Paid in full, or whatever installments you can afford me,

Even if you feel it's but enough to buy me a coffee.

Know that such air defibrillates, resuscitates, and brings my soul to cough

As a sound off that proves I'm still alive

As okayest as that may seam,

Know that this has-been...has been everywhere you've been.

I, the former preacher

Have been the henchman of true fictions

The entertainer of fake truths

Has Zeke'd the peaks of lost hills which were gazed upon

From grounds named zero

From the persuit of bone canyons

Amidst ice cold hearts headlocked 'neath rib cages

In commune with the confines of gated prey

I, too, have suffered children

I, too, were a suffered child

And even I,

That reluctant mastermind

Have been found by enlightenment.

Here's what enlightenment is.

It is empathy that, from the outside in, sometimes looks pathetic.

It's a ukulele that plays the chords of the chorus seemingly by itself

The verses of this Psalm.

It's an ancient soul's arthritis writhing in pain

As a means to bearing…hug the hell...out of everyone around him

It's the hedge's removal, coinciding with unlearning how to walk

Just to refresh your muscle's memory

with tests you've told the world over you've studied for.

It's the multiple choices all seeming like trick answers.

It's the light my beloved Paul once saw.

It's a sight seen psychically despite psychosis which people swear you seem

Why do I say this?

Because if it can be this way for me

This mediocre motivation

This ho-humble

This extra-regular who some hath deemed super

Then it can happen among you

Those whom I see as extraordinary

For we are gifted with a presence we probably do not deserve

To pass ahead of us.

Yet we, the foreversomuch forgiven and free

Despite our lack of oneness.

You, too, can be like the sun.

A way. A truth. A light. A life.

That salvage from the savageness,

No matter how average you choose to presume.

How?

I'll answer it the way it was answered me.

Now.

When?

Yes.

What?

Exactly.

But Who???

You.