Sep 142011
No intercessor angel tends
On steps no other did commend;
No vagrant God adjourns
Heaven for what makes us mourn.

No pebble, despite eons going by,
Disincarnates a sigh;
Ocean humps in its gelid sack
Only forth and over, there and back.

Sins commissioned ere our time
Get writ as History, not as crime;
No insistless salve is spread
To comfort calumnies of the dead.

Ancient bitterness and vibrant strife
Impose no twinge on man and wife;
Remorseless immortals looking down
Neither laugh nor frown.

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