Augustine.  The one who decided which of the Gospels would become canon, and which he would try to hide from humanity.  

   

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I come here alone, to this fence by the tree,
My sketch pad in hand, if by chance I should see,
Something wild
Something free
Like a child
I will be
Tracing lines with my pen in a lost reverie.
 

Proud in painted filigree

Grand, she stands and sways

Above a liquid looking glass

Her fingers upward splayed

 

Her crown aflame against the sky

Soon dims to browns and grays

Falls to the mirror at her feet

As another year betrays

 

But stay she must ‘mid the chill

Though naked now she stands

While on the ice below her limbs

Her former glory lands