[Chapter XI]

[Chapter XII]

First a light, and then a cup,
set upon a meager tray beside the book of revelations,
and tucked by fireside's brighter light
Studiously dwell upon the ill-achieved stabs at grace
The second light is tempered by its honesty,
overshadowing the primary
Words contort accordingly
Another page torn,
crumbled by a fist in reaction to actions
pure in concept marred by dissatisfaction,
squeezing drops of still flame from the cold page
And yet it still must come to this: a wordless page,
yet poignant fist to keep the fire still contained
And if there's no more to show for this tonight
except a paper cut that's fine,
and yet it still does ratify when bloody hands will satisfy
and voices can't bring down the sky
Another page is smoothed and saved
The needless word has need today,
the millionth word and first the same
"Against stupidity the Gods themselves contend in vain"?
Against true luminance the bright ones lose their sheen,
but through humility the dullest troll can fail discretely
"Against stupidity the Gods themselves contend in vain"?
Illuminated now, a picture has two levels;
there is the moment clad in shallow sun
Behind, there stands the fact,
the noose of God surrounding;
and tied to everything they fall, toppling the all