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I put in my sweet time, but there are crimes
None can answer for...justice continues
Blindly on. We’re convinced safety follows
Time, the threat, no matter how terrible,
Diminishes to afterthought, and who,
Distracted by senses, sees the future
With clarity, or reasons clearly
About something abstract as damnation.
The here-and-now outweighs eternity.
Besides, there is the promise so often
Clung to, which offers an absolution
For even the most disgusting of sins.
Though know, it is empty, because no words
Have the power to do what is needed;
Their magic is merely charlatantry,
Just an invention of man that’s falsely
Attributed to the divine, derived,
Like the idea of innocence,
From infantile and, frankly, desperate
Fantasies. Everyone wants to believe
In reconciliatory salvation--
Good things come to those who participate
In pointless rituals of penitence.
Yet, there is neither condemnation nor
Mercy, except for the privileged few,
Who having touched the face of creation,
Become entangled with the web of light
Cast by the great birth at the end of all.
The rest will be forgot, lost to shadow,
Swallowed by true death, complete erasure,
Their matter lost, foresworn to a limbo
Where nothing signifies, nothing happens
To consequence, and judgment never comes.