All that can be said about something like that is. . ."Oh my, oh my."

Walking along a city street
with a weary smile and eyes trained to seek distress,
a hand ready to extend and yield God's greatest solace
in the form of flesh on flesh
For gripping hands are surely the venue
wherein two brothers' souls will mesh

How do you stand apart from others,
Oh, acknowledged sage and elder brother?
Is it the darkness which pools beneath your eyes in light
where gather memories of men in mankind's night?

What madness made them hurt you, brother?
A century past and I shun my ancestors
like discarded villain comic book characters
I cannot understand them; they were not men, but some
animal inflicted by disease -
and time was most cruel to you - it enveloped your stars in its chasmic arms
and crushed them at once to silver bits
and it stretched you in hunger, by the arms and legs
until the image that it sought was complete, one which haunts me to the day:
A picture of a walking skeleton with jutting ribs
and tormented eyes - such a tortured death within them,
Of the self, and of love, and finally the death of God in muffled praise.

How do you stand apart from others
Oh acknowledged sage and elder brother?
Is it the darkness which pools beneath your eyes in light
where gather memories of men in mankind's night?