They learn the right direction from our compass wheel. And turned to one alone. Blood on his wrists, face, his burned side, ankles where ropes tied him to the spokes and the small bone broke through. To think of them, souls rising. It's a way.
All faith asks is forgiveness, good.
There was a light brimming, full in the dying eyes, full. And I knew it then, why the everlasting wheel was invented.