The Blood and The Oil

I kept thinking he would turn human one day.
That one day a light would switch on, and the puppet would shake off its shell and become real.
I realize now that light will never creep across that cold, dark shadow man.
Every now and then I would see the tiniest sliver of humanity show through.
Goodness.
Like there was some superhero hiding in there, bold and bright.
Pretend.
It was all just a lie I told myself to stay warm in the night.
Because I also saw this gleeful darkness flash across that screen like some prophetic glitch.

There was no human.

And I really thought this story mattered.
That HE mattered.
Like some Divine Directive/Saving Private Ryan mission that bid me this
unfathomable,
unthinkable,
impossible task.
“Save him” the silent sound said.
“Love him” it gently offered.
And while I could throw myself away loving him, I could never save him.
None of it mattered.
My heart poured out prayers like wine at a wedding.
But the blood and the oil don’t mix.