We see no tomorrow, said the sheep. It is true that Nero was still very young, but our traveller would pass up from the Lydian vales to find the Cappadocian Hatti no longer the masters of the plateau as of old. The spoil of Jericho remained: a Babylon garment, two hundred shekels, and a wedge of gold, which were meant to state and remind. We see the edge of dawn, but that’s not tomorrow, said the sheep. Sacrifice makes sacrifice real.
poems, fireflies...