PEACE FOR THE BEAST
People of beauty have no balm for the World.
And so, the Beast thought: :
Who granted me this Way,
Is there a greater Evil than me,
To smash my head,
To splinter my bones?
Then sorrowful It shouted
At the void World.
After ages and ages,
Tired of dividing One-into-Two,
It asked to walk as a balm ever on,
To slide gently, to leave
Even the air undisturbed by breath.
And the World responded
In a sound soft and even,
Forgiving all,
The World lonely without the Beast,
Opened the Gates.
And the Beast, unburdened,
Ceased into a balm.
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