Justice

27 July 2024

How does one answer them, naked
and screaming for more, when the task
ever new yet the same, makes demands?
One is rapt by Sophia, beloved of philosophy,
whose darkness conceals all we know,
and makes hidden supposéd self-evident truths.
Evermore? Or shall we again find that thing
that makes peoples cohere, nestled in us,
right next to the beating heart? It's a start,
but the task, ever new, makes demands,
and we may find ourselves unequipped
for its burdens, until we revisit
our gardens of men, and equip them
with sturdier material.

--

Child of darkness, darkness unverified,
tell me your secrets, and I will make hidden
what ought to be so. Let me guess. You are sure
that the empire is falling and ought to fall.
You have known all injustice. The beaker is full
of the dregs of revenge, and mankind is no better
than its worst have been. You will say this,
but time goes on, turning its wheel,
as you squeal and you moan about nothing
not already known by all those who have lived.
For you will not survive here unless
you can learn to forgive.

--

Turning and turning the wheel that keeps turning,
we know now that all Rome is burning,
was burning, and always shall burn
'til we learn that we are not pure atoms
but live here as one holy tribe.
It is hard to describe what I mean,
but not so far beyond that it cannot be grasped,
if one only had what one first came for,
so long ago, out of the ether and into this world
of mankind gone awry. But whence comes this true hope
for a justice no earth-dweller knows?