may be our most
archetypal fear—
but it's also the most
groundless, since
there's so much more here
than our fiercest
combatants could hope
to defend. For example,
hands are so numerous,
there is always one
to lend—
and time
is so ample that it never
quite advances.
And the blue sky
blushes out so wide that,
what could be the chances
that you ever would
run out of vintage
sermons to mistrust
from the glut of ancient
gods who still must
float and make their homes there,
their vengeance
too great to be blighted
by death, yet
so infinite-
ly diffuse, it just feels
pleasant now instead?
