Amongst war, fire, and rage
How tragic that man should be
So inhumanely sensitive,
His language needing to give
Everything a meaning,
And a weight,
In so many degrees
Of this is better, that is wrong,
This one a victim, that is not acceptable,
One thing is more beautiful
Than another,
And the intolerance
Of that which offends the mind,
No more
Than the chemicals of words
Putting forth golden laws
Which will pass as quickly
As man’s short age of vanity:
That broken black
Which spews the venom
Of stones from the dark abyss of itself,
As though time does not take away all things in measure
With perfect justice at the end
AsIDream 