He lay in the cradle, cooing to sound and totally void of sight.
Responding to the voice of a lullaby, but unable to respond to light
His father Timaeus cried all night until his robe was soaked
He prayed that the future would be secure, consistent, legally, permanently cloaked.
The cloak would keep him from hunger and the cloak would keep him from cold
It was a perfect plan for a young blind man, but an embarrassment to an old.
He begged in the heat. He begged in the rain. He begged when he was sick. He begged when he was afraid.
His voice was rasped, his body ached and the ends of the cloak wore frayed.
Now, at night it wraps around his neck and he awakes gasping for air.
Sometimes it brushes his cheek and he reaches to find that no one is there.
He hopes someone can untangle him from the cloak he needed each day.
He is tripping on it, stepping on it, just one thought from giving it away.
Bartamaeus unhooked the cloak and waited for Jesus to pass by.
When he heard that he passed his way, he flung it to the sky.
Yes, when he heard Jesus passing his way, he flung it into the sky.
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