Sonnet I: Evil Will Die

Shall any reach the stars when no man may?
And who shall lift ye when the rest are gone?
Believe ye he’ll continue, at your sway,
To trust it’s ye from whom his strength is drawn?

What lie is this? What price is added on
To that, with blissful ignorance, his gifts
Have paid? Dare shriek that hand should carry on,
Betrayed, when ye have cursed it while it lifts

Ye from your caves. The mind who guides it drifts
In lofty space. And when it dreams, it keeps
Ye from your graves. The laws of God it sifts,
With all His grace, yea, even as it sleeps.

Yet now, lies still, until your evil dies–
 At rest, until ’tis safe to touch the skies!

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Into 1: To Atlas And…

To All The Weary:
He who waits. He who does not.
He who lifts the Earth.

Holds himself aloft.
Who reaches to the Heavens.
Godspeed either way.

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