Sometimes I wonder
if I am the father of Leibowitz.
If my son is destined,
to be the last.
A mistaken saint,
before a thousand years
of relearning lessons from
the past.
Sometimes I wonder
if there was anything I
might have done to prevent,
the Flame Deluge.
Maybe becoming a true saint,
by loving more and caring for
the feeble Pope’s children
next door?