A ravening year, all
On a hunt, looking for
Peace and Prosperity, yet
Denying that they do not lay in isolation,
Dreaming they are from Pain, apart.
If one finds them alone, together,
In that stormy-clear, weirding weather,
There, surely is a clever devil’s art.
Say then, beg, “Come now fiend, give us
Your tricks and spells,
I’ll sooner sign forsaken pacts, than
Persist again and again,
In such a year’s suffering swells.”
© SXT 2022