you stand there...still
like some fractured stranger.
while humanity falls to dust:
earth's double-crossed
remainder.

alone
after beckoned moments
out of time.
with each second
hand-in-justice
rippling birth-like:
earth's design.

and as fault lines
shifted rippled dread.
till your quartered
still life body
lies entombed
and left for dead.

and I search for equation answers
in my heart + in my head
as the world looks on
and acts and ponders...
“God as judge or God as dead?”

as this universal symbol
that still hangs there as a wreath.
“And why does God not intervene,
as living stones lie underneath?”

I do not know — I cannot say.
I will not dig out trite answers
in response.

not today...

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