O To Be Darkness

Given the consequences
of instinct, the insistence of flesh
to wound or heal, what we are made of,
the pattern of our dreams-

who can hold us accountable?

O to be darkness and hate darkness
or shy stars who know their deaths
are matters of chance and fortune,

shine or blacken habitually.

O what are contrite hearts
compared to ambition?

Whatever is, whatever was,
even God, certain of His beauty
remains as lovely.

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