In the absence of the spirit
A dusty crucifix hangs
And throws its shadow unnoticed
Across the shifting images
On the wall
In the absence of the sacred
Profanities amass
And we, the fallen, bow down
In numbed subscription
At the altar
As pale enlightenment plays
Upon our faces of cracked plaster
While our hearts atrophy
And blacken
Like rotten nutmeat
In the absence of the will
Redemption has been preempted
Please stand by
Do not adjust your set
We will return after these messages
Idle hands…
Photo/Ray Larsen
Román Leão 
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