The Great Cold
An Epic
Who will plunge a tree should grow it tallest
and find ill winds render the height smallest
It fails eyes that the slight lives wrestle man
and hold fast all the while gracing their plan
The giant enthrals and fights vicious hearts
where sway-craving demi-beings fling darts
This scares me into which I seek to breathe
I knew not how else I should bear or seethe
My breath, the fell pneumonia and this draft
I know not whose fight will last grasp a haft
Greatest heights sag; the sturdiest collapse
This is the spirit with which days now lapse
I am not made of brass which does not rust
Hence, I will trail our twin hearts to the dust
My mind lays no exact ear nor eye schooled
I yet not smell when earth will rout, so ruled
I should pay my art that does thirst for juice
God most high, Lord of all crafts, do me use
My mind may, past my tongue, tell far fluent
but I shall heed that my thoughts not truant
This garland virus does no fair thought help
but my pen wears no eyes nor knows a kelp
They that cut a yam when in haste they dug
would slow to unearth the tail earth did hug
Hot soup should be licked around its edges
To essay straight, this task, my pen pledges
Here is a tale of lives, cats and winged mice;
how man fronts their rebellion and the price
The winged mice click, but disrupt silly ears
They blind easy eyes and sink them in tears
Those dark-sky beasts and the sinister cats
trick the judgement of men who repel gnats
I know not what snake is young in the teeth
nor what centipede yet breathes in a sheath
How water made past the pumpkin’s handle
my slight mind probes with a lighted candle
The arrow cast upwards cannot sleep there
One’s shadow will bear one till one’s last lair
The brow of the sky lifts in grief well etched
because man has harvested the far-fetched
Roused of the East, arresting past the West,
an eastern cold gusts and distracts our rest
It creeps through the air, behind the senses
and without limbs, strikes against defences
The eye of the sky is numb, and lives freeze
but sin to hurt, cough up sputum or sneeze
Grieved rest the diseased by a starved virus
An ill which, of else lives, breathes desirous
A close trade of presence fashions a bridge
through which nasal and oral droplets ridge
Stray droplets perch on the skins of objects
to which, by a loose hand, the face subjects
A fortnight next will have brought the result
Three days on the score finds its peak exult
The score, its hunger for roaming may pass
It still does proofs in the non-scored amass
Six-day old symptoms do the ill ached pluck
In six weeks, all jinxed cases are stiff-struck
Man is stuck in cobwebs and in vain stalled
This is a fright with which we are enthralled
If the mushroom lives a slave to the ground,
it sprouts from the waist of a stem aground
The sun has failed to awake from his house
to cleanse this epoch of the brooding louse
This age is such dressed in just made attire
Our thanks meet China who did all conspire
May we summon the Asian for handshakes
Laud the omnivores for a world that quakes
They well munched this epoch into a cough
such that man serves to a microbe a trough
It sugars the mouth that pains the buttocks
Men with puffy eyes may let their stomachs
Cure seekers who processed bat carcasses
may see that their toil, for praise, canvasses
The human crown is bowed and in our eyes
Man bows and brooks a fall, and nature rise
Who turned a palm frond and saw a serpent
would place it back or spurn and not repent
The two-legged featherless animal swerves
and keeps along, as he observes his nerves
But some singular hearts best savour fright
Certain full fledged ears position word-tight
Now, devouring meat-eaters who crunch all
exalt between neighbours a chest-high wall
The spirit of this age bears a strange breath
He gives out ill and strikes a dance of death
Students of life trace this terror to schemes
Finders, poets and seers bear fresh themes
It finds my head with threnodies consumed
and inks my nib with a verse of the doomed
I should not mouth a dirge, or spend my nib
but my fingers it has thwacked with a squib
In a cold sweat, they scratch for a keyboard
to word pieces of my mind made road-ward
These troubled shreds venture on a journey
to seek them that keep up with this tourney
My twin hearts and I heed these tragic bells
fetch our art of letters more leaves of spells
By way of faces — minds with earth acquaint
If not the mouth, the heart would retire faint
All minds still store all that did us hoodwink
My heart does my pen plugged into him, ink
When the months of our year arose in pride,
the twenty-fifth of the second moon sighed
She had divined the kite to sweep our clime
which would snake in, clearly amid her time
We had kept Christmas and its year’s plenty
and the new year: two thousand and twenty
We had kept the year of more smiles on lips
when vile lives from behind made to eclipse
This plague would not swoosh past Nigeria
was he schooled we trounce harsh bacteria
The fifty-eighth dawn of the year woke grief
Our minds watched it not intrude like a thief
What our Italian guest much thrived to host,
had flown past his seat shooting outermost
Augury students would astray have begged
that visitors be, straight on the way, pegged
Foul news is brought by March the eleventh
that, in thirteen years, men bear the seventh
Keep this threatening rainstorm from falling
Heavens, if you bear, save us from squalling
The rise of a plague says the all-health desk
Breeds of this age tell new to the grotesque
Marked an open air walker none should join
our fright asks each to cast within, a groyne
This strain only caught life and has no balm
As we seek for a way, he wreaks more harm
Care givers bear clues from sick old epochs
Each day holds newer bits of the health box
Each day shows us her safest roads to take
Lives choke; and the enemy our flaws make
We never did bear this nor were we maimed
but spy this affliction straight at man aimed
I feel it could expend some time and means
So, my blank leaf covets to wear the scenes
I board a train whose stop men do not bode
I might quite soon alight for some else road
Either way, I will have filled these live blanks
if the scythe bearer not plays her fell pranks
Should the grim reaper betide without signs
to the wind, rains or fire might my lone lines
All lines would bury earth, water and clouds
A view of which would win me jolly shrouds
Most hearts lodge homelike for a pandemic
The theft of breath, mid most, tells endemic
While some eyes fail its life or mien, or both,
the science of weighing declares its growth
How we did earn the baneful broom, we ask
Our heads covered with loads it will yet task
We wrench into our skins bearing our angst
and nurturing that not to our roots chanced
God cheats not, we hold, so ills do us wreck
The white who lie in means may do it check
To lay on the first things our hands just itch
That is more covid, or our worlds we switch
Our skins wear the heart of the better made
and the yet-to-fall states’ pride so conveyed
One may stitch shut the eyelids of the hawk
that flies with its wings astride a weak flock
The mortal shadow pulls all that keep close
Quick legs set out on a move, fleeing throes
The great stream would not drown anybody
with whose legs it not met, and rest shoddy
State leads tell: a lockdown for a few weeks
and we see one which of no set end speaks
Shutting the earth from its roof is so carved
during which the sly intruder dwells starved
Our eyes and hearts sit up to what happens
Dim they feel but their cold rims it sharpens
We concede to feel the turning globe stilled
Thus, do a lifeless and tiresome world build
Cities are locked up and fretful legs banned
Who makes home late is left out of the land
How early, price growth and famine is smelt
Blows of panic-shopping are to stores dealt
Who saw gates and walls even to be locked
here ply basics in their houses well stocked
Migrants stuck away, more seclusion baths
As if casting stones, roving feet seize paths
Noted sights bed ugly that sold guidebooks
Terminals that fed passports bear dry looks
In order that one will preserve one’s phlegm
field affairs divorce scenes wedded to them
Now breathe daily schemes, to the air, given
No route lies, through which traffic is driven
Yet-living trades do breaths of else air catch
Schoolmates and worshippers on air attach
Known amusement houses, to the air, move
Distant souls let their bonds, on air, improve
Picked minds that do the art in the air grasp
comprise thin hands who cannot do it clasp
Hands that ate together now wave goodbye
We are snatched by a break without the sky
Are these Adam’s first days when man idled
and reaped the earth, in freedom unbridled?
Noses grudged the gas of life stick farthest
but do warhorses’ breasts’ armours harvest
Who taught their child: genitals are covered
felt that their mind still on the nose hovered
Every hand bears Ignaz Semmelweis’ words
Bathing a falling stream or glove, each girds
China smears his hands; ours swim a lather
He wears dread; we shoo our fellows, rather
While he defiles gases which gird the globe,
all else do their procedures for health probe
As they infect their houses and compounds
all elsewhere do surface cleaning, in rounds
Their diets walk their pores as some poison
while we avoid others whose skins moisten
A kung fu scheme though mimes an animal
crafts health and judgement at the maximal
The world wall but rock knows an ill crevice
Man pulls an abrupt discharge from service
Like some regulus prompt to wed with gold
hostile states quicken to build a stronghold
Eyes wear the teeth of combs on the ill cast
weighing its here and there, future and past
Hours erase their visages; days, their miens
Our souls evade us, scratching for vaccines
Those that live as one grab the art of health
Nothing outweighs staying alive; not wealth
The clock says life; no ambitions nor trades
Who can breathe has other lovely cascades
A young palm frond, still to unwrap, shrivels
but fails the blind eyes if the grieved snivels
Children are like lonely flowers wind-tossed
So mild and lost, it soon does them exhaust
Who took the winged train to foreign clinics
now relent on some field healthcare picnics
The richest and their bronze monies sunder
They freeze at this monstrous virus-wonder
The moneyed dispense vast copper monies
to charm fortune, and assume kind bunnies
The refuges of abodes, the chiefs of realms,
grind molars jointly while fright overwhelms
Our forerunners who merely lose their mirth
summon a long-haired star to kiss the earth
Our youth may be just while they hold aloud
that this bane seeks but the richly endowed
The wealthy return home from far countries
Their companions at most kiss their entries
The rich traverse through soils of this covid
They are kept, and the rest shooed like Ovid
The wealthy and ailling are the most-served
where others inflicted stay back self-nerved
Well, downcast souls look up to the steeple
sects, creeds and classes become a people
Heads sit else ways to lead the eyes abroad
How our visions turn revised casts us awed
This age gives us a new hunch of our breed
Now, strangers to our clout tenant our heed
Our care-givers and corps take up the cross
All else stretch out in their beds like a moss
Now breathes the chief strife of the century
when most hearts not catch its worst injury
The front line cry well seized by our fighters
Our healthcare leads rouse the field igniters
Mouths sing praises of the victors war-kept
Minds greet offers of their leisures ill swept
Man has so not vanquished Covid-nineteen
but the triumph woos his mind and as keen
A clash of bullets, and blades would quaver
Ours foils wide eyes but not meets a waiver
The brave strike their way to an other world
They make to a hell to foil the source furled
Who invades Satan’s land must do else ripe
You not try his seat nor from a length snipe
They who do find not home in their number
They all may submit to the strange slumber
Bright news greets home, even if ill luck ails
A barred voice tries to ring of hope and fails
We bath under droplets yowling from eaves
and gulp drips of water bawling from leaves
Forty days have found our sit-at-home push
Meanwhile, its extension staged an ambush
Who earned every day are seized in the toils
They fall ill, whose lips this dry spell not oils
Caught in the snake-coil wheel of a cyclone,
into the soil man’s forked roots scurry sown
We can brace ourselves like algae in chains,
to wreck this plague, or honour our remains
Our age lays sages composed as the young
who are eyes over their soils like the tongue
The tongue is one deft dweller of the mouth
It sways the realm from its west to its south
Marking the nooks of all that lurk and prowl,
it spreads about the walls as though an owl
Our fathers bore dusky days; these are ours
All hands bind to reclaim the free lost hours
Their god does fell them where anyone falls
The rest limp till their last gasps and pitfalls
There lie the feet of whom the earth chases
One who fights with oneself nothing graces
The distance mid thumb and the fifth finger
does prompt their eyes on each other linger
Most legs sent indoors do not bear the trait,
while they simulate the crab’s sideward gait
We quite veer from our own selves horrified
playing the snail’s shell turned half to a side
This home confinement lives with a manual
To sleep, dine, bath, and again reads factual
A poor man’s day unfurls late; grief eats him
May no one ask others what lake they swim
A lifetime swept by techniques and science
Warfield lovers quake in home convenience
Men pushed animals to brawl in deep holes
Now, animals pull men’s fight for their souls
Flag-wavers who bore fiery guns and knives
cannot sit behind doors and keep their lives
Man may conceive how animals judge zoos
A caged fine-limbed creature lives an abuse
I have, all through my life, itched to lie down
but on this short-stay prison I should frown
Lives we miss, we know you too do us miss
Hope leads us towards the path to our bliss
If these days pass and you not bear us next
do not thus hold that our love too fell hexed
We strain past our roles for the least to give
but all eyes are fought over which souls live
Many are crushed and many grown ill numb
Some lose their way; on a newer path, some
These are days set to lash man as they look
My bones say torn apart; my limbs, ill-shook
Scratching plagues him a lot that lice attack
He not tells when he does on his poo snack
Our breeding lockdown has a new daughter
Who not saw this plunge in earth and water
Dwellers across oceans, to hold home, earn
Our very statesmen do our hurt pleas spurn
Relief grants from larger hands make fables
While in fact food and meat blind our tables
Most men tell not else ways to fetch money
They live on the past that came most sunny
These are no fertile times to grow business,
but hunger torments more than unwellness
The skin wears no prickles and rests frozen
When itching grows hard, it greets the open
Who heeds the fear beyond walls no longer,
has been kindled and chased out by hunger
Their skins lie in the pupil’s gray-green haze
of which etch hunger-struck veins in a daze
The thumb snaps the finger and stirs a clap
Able hands fill sunk cheeks that itches slap
Who break their arms as the fight escalates
carry who break their legs, with sturdy gaits
Lordly lenders and barefaced beggars swell
Limbs in fetters still grope for ways to dwell
Here, some minds are fired for some genius
Some else, at hatching ills, swing ingenious
He in jail starves; the starved has an ill mind
Thus, the dark-minded arm against the kind
Kitchens bear news of their ill-emptied pots
Days know grocers recording robbers’ plots
In the sun, the land that one grows of crops
is that which, below rafters, takes raindrops
One works by lamplight; the daylight is shut
Across the unpeopled spheres, nature strut
Many souls are swept out by this vile dance
It smoothly strips this time of its substance
Few victims and deaths our registers quote
Many minds rot that these records not note
The rich knows none to bear his ill or doom,
nor contracts the dead to possess his tomb
No soul will rest a heap of numb pale bones
behind eyes that had him thrive over stones
Man’s hearing dies last; an artist’s hands do
If the last couplet of this draft pulls through
A deinked pen is first mourned by his drafts
Of the notes of his aired works he yet crafts
This is one death-of-cold with wings so rife:
A grim stroke that marks a cold break in life
Adroit to wreak earth-wide havoc, and brisk,
it is one fierce stream encircling earth’s disc
Snared souls sing the song of a dying swan
These preys felt to die soon admit foregone
Seven million lives are caught in six months
Three and a half million thwart met affronts
When almost half a million repose trounced
time will rate the Pestilence far pronounced
This year of death is still faced within doors
It rivets prickles to hearths for some chores
While itchiness is employed in most homes
one is shorn of the ease at which life foams
One may wish for one’s portion in the street
where this aerobe or our men-at-arms greet
Men live tricky times fraught with dilemmas
You rig truths, Wuhan ill, and numb lemmas
Stripped rough-edged leaves of a dandelion
have you been loaned some teeth by a lion?
Ought the spike of justice to thrust our legs
or hunger fill our pots, sketching our dregs?
Something another way does my rest touch
No prickle did thus well on my peace clutch
A child soothes, under the sky grown angry:
Mother, please bawl not; I weigh not hungry
We eat phlegm to soften the pangs of thirst
Who has a meal gulped drums of water first
One hungers in one’s mouth, not one’s belly
You bear ill-timed meals and freeze like jelly
Hunger ails others’ bellies, not their mouths
You tire of eating if your tongue has doubts
A nursed baby begins each day with brunch
when its mother seldom has nuts to munch
This sad child’s next and last meal is lunner:
lunch and dinner matched for a post-runner
Beneath fruit trees, its father gobbles meals
when the itches in the house seek his heels
Jackie Chan’s ‘Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow’
Your snake fists and cat claws, by air, tiptoe
It is fell how new bloods bear their last rites
but your flinty forte lifts my mind to heights
Like those unbowed Ronaldinho’s ball ploys
you invade, destroy and advance with poise
These days give to the eyes of the punsters
Our grief turns joyous, keeping our funsters
Plenty of sauce with which we lick our biles
does, now evil ruins men, concoct our wiles
Some germs, long sent into an endless gulf,
rise, having spied their breed do men engulf
There is no temple where man flees seizure
The seized, no priest frees, yet at his leisure
Each traced case bears Ibn Sina’s health jail
Our other selves, here ostracized, grow pale
Avicenna’s health jail clutched the diseased
Our ‘Forties’ is into fourteen days squeezed
Cases are lured to the scythe bearer’s court
Fortunates buy the judge; the rest fall short
Who may fare, reap therapies for symptoms
and yet exploit assumed breathing systems
Who not people the care jail loll homewards
and ease their breaths or let the fell records
Who hold up not return in their best shapes
Who fall do straight into the well that gapes
The routed lie lost for their heads and limbs
to adapt to a truck which with deaths brims
When, daily, thousands of men loll perished
truckloads fill pits, away, by none cherished
Corpses are plied along trails morn till dusk,
when none is better honoured as their husk
The vanquished are robbed of fair requiems
Who cease home may keep for millenniums
The Occidental say less schooled than held
The United States, the great height, is felled
The heap of sand a stroke of her spade lifts
is seen while under her watch our sail drifts
Worlds the sculpture of freedom enlightens
will see how her defied torchlight heightens
State firsts tear up, on clear and else efforts
The Latin and German tribes lose their forts
The well-smashed Brazil, Britain and Russia
do no grace into their wrecked hearts usher
Shock runs through South Africa and Egypt
Northern African states confess ill-stripped
With doubts and each barely about a slump
Kano’s, Abuja’s and Lagos’ strengths thump
The Pestilence is once more for lives ticked
The Great Depression comes soon to afflict
World economies, like the shameplant, bow
The bone-dry soil, the less fortunate plough
Humankind tires out like a bough-torn trunk
Our great voyage, thus sailed amiss, is sunk
It strikes worse in our land with just leaders
Men limp like birds fleeing coops for cedars
Swooshed past us has our Italian life-guard
He played a task for solely which he starred
Such flu which widely grips in colder climes
looks of man, but a Chinese stem so climbs
A child grown ill for work, wakes fit to brawl
Fire not keeps who woke it nor heeds a wall
Staunch to walk the else flesh to the bizarre
these were legs smelt to take the world afar
Eyes can grasp the rise and fall of each foot
and how each of their legs, to stretch, is put
The Asian wage and win the third world war
The new and else old nations blaze but roar
The snake that not swallows its companion
maybe not gets fat but grows some canyon
They still give a chase like the grudging flea
that gashed their neighbour with a machete
Hit are wiener dogs that work up no sweats,
fetched to dig the badgers out of their setts
Some Chinese hunt sway over their fiefdom
Such faceless names well defy our freedom
The kite can fly up; its shadow, down, wings
Arms not grow folded when ill at man flings
China could, behind shut doors, have a trick
This would not earn us the hungered magic
A ewe that lusts for horns may weigh a ram
She may scratch well if she has still to lamb
God gifts us faces and tongues, all may see
Life is His breathed words; cognates are we
Men could in their unique miens and voices
reap better than nursing some sole choices
The fruits of our deeds wait no split second
Everything spins upside down as beckoned
Legs keep roaming about on the same spot
I tell not our left from our right, thus fraught
The daylight grows dim like a waning moon
pulling from the nooks of our days, so soon
The past that spoke well of today masks up
The foretold wears the slips mid lip and cup
Our minds and work, with earth, did interact
Here, our feet kick against stones on a tract
False schools on air, of the spiteful ill, teach
Minds invent clues; fishers of regard preach
Hours hatch winged reports; anxieties reign
Prophets show us Jesus Christ come again
A wartime appears worse and has ways out
but on each of these days more evils sprout
A side could flex muscles and grab the field
but we lose the strength to exploit and yield
Fires of war could be put out by neighbours
but no creatures else can boost our labours
The bird flight’s eyes of hints spy not ahead
None can tell the lot of this ruin widespread
All hold that hope-filled hunger does not kill
Instead, well close makes death, the killer ill
So smoothly could this come, but I feel glad
I swear an oath which in hearts will tell mad
Past my days, my return will not, here, make
if after deaths, souls for else times do wake
Life has never had dress such poor and dull
I should fall here; still, death will all men hull
Breathing has, upon our lives, lost its charm
Well, vanity still does our stored golds harm
Our rulers look leapt for their common cloth
sewn of far tales and transformed into froth
Law enforcers launch their fame for assault
and hope that these days not dash to a halt
They are else harm past Wuhan pneumonia
Well deemed fruitful, but hard like ammonia
Our hearts cry to unknown ears borne away
While we get no responses, our hopes stray
Our still but troubled spirits, here chagrined,
crush down and wear away and to the wind
They may join the cloud of smoke up above
If the clouds not do them down to us shove
They could seek being to some lower home
but you will, Almighty, not watch them roam
God who bears the earth upon His shoulder
grief, regrets and ruin, in our eyes, smoulder
This bespeaks the bowing down of this age
and could breed the tearing out of our page
We pray for a rope thrown from outer space
that would transport all out of this embrace
In the wild fields of tomorrows cures fledge
Each leg on this slick peak clings to a ledge
A tree that cannot dance, the wind coaches
All hearts grow to augment our approaches
A meal burns me; my intestines lie bunched
I rise to gape my mouth while it is munched
Our nerve and foiled fear will not cut a germ
At the winged data on cases, hearts squirm
Man stomachs an ire that does him enslave
We re-sit our hurt hearts to house the grave
Our fathers’ spirits are here with us, housed
They bear our eyes even when we caroused
All minds serve them kola nuts, with fervour
The fruit which men and spirits both savour
Wherever one lodges one mends one’s roof
No balm hunter will brook their hearth aloof
Many minds still deem this covid some joke
Some, that our clime merely does it provoke
They bear no faults who score this ill unreal
now a saviour from far skies does man heal
Their eyes that thwart ours may be genuine
while our leads fatten up and stay sanguine
The fat ask the starved to bear their houses
but the fat loll in streets where harm rouses
Disease check bureaux do our concern lose
Hearts not shake still at pieces of sad news
Horror now withdraws its sway upon minds
We make back slowly to our common kinds
Most brows stand other proper life troubles
for the mirth which under one’s toil bubbles
A foul flu has come and now with men lives
It will fail or, God knows, leave when it gives
When no tongue terms it nameless or novel
who saw not, watch it here and there grovel
From the edge of space other horrors spark
On turns to reign upon breaths they embark
Hopes did take no fewer while it all hatched
We not deem, rather, attached nor detached
If hands keep so fettered and shorn of work
more troubles pile up, and for one’s rest lurk
Partial white men’s and to this scourge akin
some other flu lives that tries the black skin
The black man forges for himself own tools
but some sky-hue wearers attack as ghouls
Such whitemen wish to ask ills to our guard
They find the black soil best for a graveyard
They see no vaccine in our leaves and roots
that nurture pains in their eyes for our fruits
For all who assume skin-first and vice-Gods
the world will die and wait, against the odds
You grudge the black soil all its herbal feats
but let them on whose many a plague seats
The skin who does itself the sky-light deem
eludes earth painted of a black skin’s gleam
The black-skinned meet drug testing in vivo
when they seem breaths not worth a relievo
These days are here to let men who discern
confirm more racist fell wills fume and burn
Lessons behind lessons shadow each hour
What has life fights to the morrow bent lour
While a wraith, in a commune, stays so long
elders lure it where behind eyes they throng
Like asthma, dengue, Aids and else cancers
you grace the bar mid man and his answers
Wuhan pneumonia, you yearn to dwell large
and sway over lands along which you barge
So that your makers well conceive the huge
your art, Frankenstein’s virus, plays the luge
A life from the shreds of the dead will surge
while the author lays his balm for a scourge
Within my thoughts’ hearing I bear to speak
These words do you, aural, or heavens seek
Should the old and hoary-haired ill-treat you
Bad is bad; steel your mind and irk them too
When a baby crawls up and does you pinch,
drop down, nip back, like the beak of a finch
We flog a child that spilled the worthless oil
not whom broke wind to gag men in turmoil
By matching their strides, you fight warriors
They should gamble that must rise glorious
How banes have kept ailing earth from Asia
The blameful should dance to their fantasia
Our eyes can switch a more thorough study
So the pure are not cast through the muddy
World irokos seek China through tall courts
Leading seats convene her, heeding reports
Where ills befall and else ways bear legions
the stiff-necked kicks on, raiding all regions
Wuhan virus, where spirits bear weak joints,
hires a compass and infests the four points
Towards all lives the Wuhan harm is geared
States who disavow its presence are feared
We recline trapped, ill hit and grimly bruised
Some guilt of man’s perhaps is not excused
I can hear, although the hell’s bells may ring
cherubs and seraphs, at heaven’s gate, sing
Any that falls, snow, sleet or hail, is stopped
My eyes, some hearts will disclaim or adopt
Yet, what rain on man are clouds’ final spills
that walk the way to earth from the sky-hills
To weigh all we lose, hearts not say enough
Untold say the souls sunk in this fell slough
When our age not breaks into baseless pits,
the moon will shine soon if this rain permits
We will press our chests against each other
soon while we will have cast out this bother
Who must hold out must kindle a challenge
Brows raised fearlessly will refuse to cringe
As days come and go, our panic fall sapped
Such starved fears by each day fail to adapt
Views of unique faces gush for they should
Man casts off his foreboding but falsehood
The mortal will not kneel for dead concepts
which lodge not abreast of earthly precepts
Plans are awed and lifted how hearts kindle
to shake off vain contents and less dwindle
While it costs caution to claim our customs
we head for our lost aims like lay phantoms
Earth makes place to suit some other being
Man moves to match since he is not fleeing
When lives and this disease swap company
we keep from harm which does accompany
Well, dim but more form to fight they reflect
all faces and miens not reveal how wrecked
Paths are, by anxious legs again, massaged
Again, they wear life and glow camouflaged
Feet now go out again but here with modes
I veil my sunk flesh in free coats from roads
This captures not the case with the wealthy
who widen doors to go from rooms, healthy
While humans still in rank over earth mount
their wands led on else planets deftly count
Crises call but not from here do men sweep
Pinches foil the brave and yet do them keep
Our forefathers might have bent to a plague
when they kept behind eyes easy but vague
Man will his greatness his whole life secure
No disease nor scourge will his reign ill lure
It may wear quicker wings than the flu does
but men rout measles which beyond it buzz
Many creatures plot in their spectral worlds
to wrest the sway which is the ultra-furled’s
Some quit all ploys and yield in fear of routs
as your spirit ultra-furled, man, lures doubts
More plights will tilt at your sceptre and orb
but live God’s breath which only you absorb
The rare creature born of God’s photograph
should mimic God’s grace as His divine half
This single craft of God’s resourceful hands
the rate of beings born of words not stands
Who alone says worth God’s breath to exist
merits more life to bathe some blissful mist
They who when spoken to, do for life vouch
will if spoken to, towards death thus slouch
Beings that earned God’s office and muscle,
seize earth and dwellers, knowing no tussle
He who on the Lord’s last day of work came
on the day of death shall last yield his name
