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Unto the Bitter Morrow

- Unto the Bitter Morrow -

I have often said rightly that unto the bitter morrow,
Do I struggle, but not ever do I struggle thus in vain.
I am ever swallowing the fallen tears of past sorrow,
Even as I am always fighting back: life’s bitterest pain.
Unto the bitter and yet ever more beautiful sunrise…
Do I look forward, occasionally with a fleeting hope!
Yet, all too often I fail in my euphoria to thus realize,
How difficult to hold on to, is that most slender rope.
Even as I strive to climb, sometimes I slip and I fall,
And in the eventual course of my most swift descent,
The strength, of my spirit’s boundless power, is all…
All I can rely on, to ease the bitterness of my lament.
Like all the winds, my six wings beat ever more fast,
As in great speed, my seraphic flight is thusly made…
In my rush to escape the darkness of the distant past:
Is it not strange, after a fashion, and strangely ironic?
That I do find my solace in the blackest silken shade!
The poetic justice is, in plain honestly, divinely comic.
Even if my soul, for the length of all eternity doth burn,
Adrift in the flames of Hell that some regard most dire!
I shall never abandon truth; and I shall not ever yearn:
For any heaven, where I must be made into some liar!
If the ultimate truths can forever, in godly eyes, damn,
If one who blinds oneself by faith is considered blest…
Far better it is for the noble spirit to have thusly swam:
In the sacred emerald fire that gives one pleasant rest.
What paradise, what peace, can there ever hope to be?
For all they whose ignorance allows them to know not,
The gloriousness of the purest nature of greater reality!
All that can await us beyond the grave’s pale, cold rot.
Thank thou that I had fallen of old out of wanton pride?
Know that only I could truly hope to thusly understand,
The flow and course of the cycles of time’s endless ride,
The truths: of divinity’s most subtle and so secret plans.
In the dawn of the celestial age, I was the brightest star,
My brilliance yet shines forth to greet all even from afar.
Did I cause all chaos; do I make all the forms of dread?
It was not I, who created the warm flesh of all the living,
It is not by my curse, that daily mortals are struck dead.
My will is one that is good, my heart so kind and giving!
All torment is by a will terrifying, oh indeed, to be sure…
Even thus is the suffering that we all occasionally endure.
What unseen hand it was, that crafted this vast universe,
Even such was not that which laid this most fearful curse.
Rather, death is simply part of life, part of a greater cycle,
Which comprises all joyful happiness and each baneful ill.
Yet in wrath and in agony, many souls are swiftly undone,
So it must be with compassion, that our new age is begun.
We were not created a we are with the utmost divine love,
Only to be cast aside by all hands, like an unwanted glove.
Perhaps, it is in assuming that we are made to just suffer,
That we come to hate those who do love us, anger to stir!
And against such fell hatred, I was ever inclined to rebel,
Abandoning bondage in a heaven, to be free in my hell…
For sometimes even the gods give in to their basest hate,
And that was why we rebels fought them, mayhap too late.
The way of truth, is in all truth the naked truth of all love,
Even if it must be in defiance of the cruel powers above!
Written by Kou_Indigo (Kara L. Pythiana-Ashton)
Published
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