Words for the forgetting morn

 

The colour arising as I scrape by

Of that most vital, hid inside

It displays that most heavenly of signs

And does confess most grievous sin.

 

Full of opposite and contradiction

Our dearest ones, line and brother

It describes our loves, and those we should shun

Monsters we are, sport and succour.

 

(If I should die

If this should last

I pray my Lord

This soul to pass)

 

The suff'ring and bond that it represents

Are wiped away with mild indifference.