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In the Wake of Pestilence
An Angel laid down on the ground:
Its wings had helped it not,
And what the gentle Angel found
On Earth was plague and rot--
Locked bright eyes with a mortal’s dark
It tried to turn away;
The Angel, cursed with eyes and ears,
It heard the mortal say:
“The God who made you surely knew
Of all the peoples’ sin,
But tell me, then, what did we do:
Those who are innocent?
When He had cast us from the life
We had in Eden’s green,
Did He bestow the Snake a home?
Did He make us obscene?”
At that the Angel closed its eyes
To all that is humane,
It begged to God up in the skies
To end the Devil’s reign.
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I wrote this based on a painting I did, and the painting was based on who-knows-what. Not sure what else to add.