I've been walking in circles — whichever way I go, I arrive back at the altar, back at my twice slain body.

The sun is setting.

My flesh is beginning to rot.

Finally, I turn back to Him and ask "What is it you want? Why will you not let me continue?" He speaks slowly:

There is no more path.
Rest.
Sleep in the moss.

I consider his proposition. It would be so good to rest.

Peaceful.