He has the kind of quiet voice that can synchronize a crowd.

Chant now and unify your minds.

He offers us his flesh and we chant louder.

Behind him awaits the bath of red for spilled life.

The fire ignites.

The crowd tightens and I can no longer see. 

I move outside through the revolving doors into the cold.

Cars pass to the rhythm of red and green

at the corner of University and College.

There is something to learn here.

The regal confines of the bank are the backdrop to my

view through the window.

I am a two yards away from him now

and the floor to ceiling glass makes

my separation from the ritual surreal.

 

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