Saint Francis of Assisi, Francisco de Zurbarán

It's a matter a matter
of repetition of a penitent

Looking up what do you see
monk god supposes you look

Though the looking makes
your loss our loss the cost

Being sees no eyes
ends up calling doubts

These failures the friars distant
belief can it come close

Closer than the body
to the body the blood 

Inevitable the song
the past the passed

Definite particles
of a glimmer that might 

Feel on the tip of dusk
like constants like faith