Obelisk of a Burning Man

My father was born a person,
with a soul, a conscience and a heart
and as he lost battles, one by one,
he survived by sacrificing each part;

Offerings to a very sad god
moved in a bottle that floated out to sea
and forced those travelers in search of him
to cry and beg and plea.

Then he washed up on a bed of regret
in a drape soaked motel room
a halo stain around his head--
a palm tree light faded with the moon.

We hear he was about to eat his dinner,
We hear he fell to the floor,
We know he knew he was a sinner
and simply didn't care anymore.

We let him burn and granted pardon
to a voice on the telephone--
it was as if time stopped, and hardened
and formed the world to stone.

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