Oasis Crumbled columns and arches of some dusty, stone narthex, mark a no-where in the desert.
Move aside the portiere, cross the shadowed courtyard, acient flags silent beneath your feet. He wasn't just another guy hanging on his Cross Black shadows mar the perfect sands, drifting, ever drifting, all that's left here, this vestige of man's imprefection. They ignored the message, took what they could get worshipped at the temple of man. Worn curtains snap in the breeze like the breaking of old, brittle bones. Those who believe still come here, black and white robed pilgrims- they still remember.