Lone he walked the path bestowed with curse,
Bewildered he crossed seas and mountains,
Sooner he realized his destiny was never meant to be,
With broken bottles and smoked ashes.

He drove apart from the folks of heavenly hell,
Wished them nothing but glitches,
He frowned upon their beliefs and outlooks;
For those who cared his fortune,
Deemed his mistaken past.

Their ways were different,
Sour, sweet and funny.
His eyes knew righteousness.
Demon leads no man, Man knows no demon.
He stated.

No Form, No state was the cult;
No art, No drama were the prayers.
The blessing need no cause,
He loved his children with flaws.

He aged with fists and fights,
broken arms and turned up will.
He rested upon the cross carved in stone,
An atheist sleeps in his destiny.