My Dear Ciro

you weren’t made, you sprouted and bloomed
from the ether, and the magic
all your forefathers and all your foremothers
bore the trouble of setting the matters
on there you built upon the heavens
all of this you had to share
from all of this, no wrong could stale
you took the rocks and swung them here
you took the belt of stars
and strung them here-
oh god of gods, was this your plan?
oh god of gods, what did you place in the heart of man?
the worlds, they thrived
but envy too
and they took it all, and left you a fool
now your children here they make
an image copied from all you made
they took it upon themselves to build
and all this good they had to share
from all this, no wrong can stale
but all the rot from the dead
brought forth all of the plagues-
oh god of gods, look at your creation
oh god of gods, men are not just from your imagination
the worlds you built
they have destroyed
in your cave, where you dwell
have any thought alerted you to this hell?
a remorse seems dormant in your eyes
the ether and the magic
will never let you die

however, this flesh is mortal
thank you Ciro for that
a mercy you gave,
death may truly be a gift
if you know what it means to live
instead of restructuring the diorama
and living through pictures of martyrs
seeing to this body and soul
living through and through.
Ciro dear, I forgive you fool
as your stars reach my eyes
I don’t pray for my faith is mine
not a bargain to barter
so as the night collapses
I declare for you,
may your forefathers and foremothers
have a bit of mercy
and let you through

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