He showed up beaten and defeated,
A husk of a dream, used and discarded,
Orphan to the world and slave to its woes.

Who could love such a thing?
This rabid descendant of Adam and bearer of his sin,
Smelling of bile and **** and dried up tears.

He extended his arms as if reaching for the stars,
Only, stars don’t fall for dogs,
their warmth jealously guarded,
beneath a silky indigo cloth.

A stern and beautiful figure stood by the doorway,
clad in light and righteous vindication,
wearing the face of a goddess and brandishing her fury.

She looked down on that sorry scene
with sadden eyes and a love only she could understand.

To hold him then, would make Atlas twitch,
To look into his eyes would make Perseus crumble,
To love him back would make even Christ sigh.