This day all things begun come to ill end.
I smile as I feign my mock surprise.
God turns awry in exile from himself.
His great, sad eyes are closed. His promise fails.
He mouths his silent, bitter wish and stills
the sighing quiver of a Monk's last breath.
So much my conscience whispered in His ear
which none but Heaven, He, and I could hear.
Aha! My Soul!
to force His cry: No more Mythologies!
The fragments fall as God last lifts His hand.
and when I spoke of God it was a mask
I smile as I feign my mock surprise.
God turns awry in exile from himself.
His great, sad eyes are closed. His promise fails.
He mouths his silent, bitter wish and stills
the sighing quiver of a Monk's last breath.
So much my conscience whispered in His ear
which none but Heaven, He, and I could hear.
Aha! My Soul!
to force His cry: No more Mythologies!
The fragments fall as God last lifts His hand.
and when I spoke of God it was a mask