The flies land on eyes
too dry to close,
and logos run filthy all over
the clothes, where there are any. Limbs,
bellies, minds ache, naked
and wither with hope - nothing can take it
but death, at least, comes often
and ceremoniously. Everything explained
by a pantheon - alive where nothing else
could possibly survive, God
looks down, and looks on,
and lives on.
God's in Its heaven and the kids
are alright. Peace on earth,
to everyone willing
to give up
the fight.
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