They prefer the abuse

02 July 2025

https://poems.culturing.net/2025/07/they-prefer-the-abuse/

Who is the boss of them, clambering
after Forever, in search of some other world,
if their God is not real? Who's to say,
whether this is permitted or that? They forget
how to answer these questions. Afraid of the dark,
they burn five-hundred candles each night,
(Zoroaster might approve), but to no avail.
The dark reemerges in sleep, in dreams,
and in each indecision that comes their way.
Who's to say, when nobody can say anything,
in a country of echoes, the land of the same?
It's insane, but that does not stop them.
I would that they would break free
from this cosmic, imperial tyranny,
but it is no use. They prefer the abuse,
and outside of it find only terror.