The Fable

The host keeps dropping the connection
I’m standing out here on a stone
Waiting for a signal from a distant radio station
Just another voice so I can feel more alone

Highway travelers trying to get out of the static
Desperate for distraction from the dark night ahead
A brimstone preacher his language emphatic
For a small donation he’ll tell you why God’s not dead

Up here in the woods a woman breathes through the leaves
Her words are whispered perfect prophecy
I try to remember this means everything to me
But I keep forgetting what I used to believe

Last night’s last supper is still on the table
Wine glasses left with the dregs of blood
I sit in his chair recite the fable
Wonder for the millionth time if love is enough