on the road, at an easy pace, led, by ass two things, an indicator weariness and its place: sincere, lasting and awful, came to pass:
a daimōn, euphoric bore well a blazing sword & appeared to his steed to bring them to vines and graze his knee
at that the terrible penalty started: thrice whipped, a donkey alluded to the glorious theotés
mad with pain, he thrashed the vine & fell cold-brained, epileptic, lost until messengers. came to aid, lifting him on again
the perversion was lost: silent the way before them from certain death to already slain, the man, his post. his sense of irony. and they came to the boundary
Balaam could not sleep well: bloody minded aboriginal even with fingers caressing his skull, that water would wipe clean the dust not pile it up waiting for the sun.
Thrice hit, his god glorified zion: that stubborn mule, carrot to tempt, refused, and was damned. Be damned.