The temple was hushed in darkness. They sat in holy communion, the man and the god.
The man was slack of jaw and greasy of skin, his hair lank and unwashed. His limbs hung like salami in a butcher shop.
The god was a cubic rectangle. It danced and sang for the man, and gave him the form and semblance of all manner of goodly things. The god seemed to fill the man with its beaming brilliance, which the man absorbed silently.
A quieter, subtler thread carried other things away, from man to god, but nobody noticed that at all.
Concrete Angel is a Finely Carved Debut
18 hours ago