this is how his voyage ended:

there was rage in his heart, clawing to be let out.

the fall from grace was a warning

to us all: dreamers, murderers, saints.

we are acquainted with the path that guides us

toward the inevitable

yet we wonder who opened it for us?

who was the first whose steps

touched its pristine snow?

he barely remembers those days or

how its trecherous whiteness melt in his mouth;

it tasted like sugar and honey,

as lies always do.