As

It’s a black sadness, a deep
well of sorrow…pain
for longing for reason
we watched as Paris
writhed in agony, as bullets
told stories
lies
as someone’s god
thanked returning martyrs
as blood rain
in rivulets through
what was
yesterday’s meaning, while
the minds of man create
these endings
these sundry
horror shows, we can only watch
hoping without
our souls getting stained
because it is not
conceivable
until
it is…
time looks down from
long places
and waits
until we are all dead
as we will be
soon…without
thankful gods, without
meaning
but the sound of gunfire
of bombs
and the resolute insistence
of a species
…that good
actually
does
exist.

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