Monday, August 3, 2009

A Summary

Who is judged thus?

Be it an appearance

of mortal man? So the anger

speaks, the augur seeks,

the craven weep of mercy. By

rights, on whom the mantle

still obsidian rests, attest

not to shadows what was

seen.

It is a departure.

The setting straight of a crooked tale.

No more as orator,

in lieu a craft of subtler stead.

A waking of the worms

inside a head.

And so, a temporal adieu:

no more ask of whence

a body came, not

of why a soldier laughs or how

these bones collapse,

but of how a life resumes.


-the ambassador

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