The pillars of the world not withstanding,
they feast on ash and slosh down Michelob
Ultra, the men and women in these great
Tolkienian mountains chirp with glee as
the many bearded godman sits down
for a pail of chicken wings.

godman takes his fee of chicken
and delivers a half- baked sermon
on light, what it means to become light,
but it is all lost on the people of the
mountains. You see, they have
no idea what light is.

You, too, the reader of this poem--
me, three, the writer of this poem--
have no idea. Light, light, this light,
light, godman's light, Light, light, light
cannot be reached by eyesight alone.