Once our ancestors had the goods, they could
Be the ancestors of something like us.
Humans are not, of course, good, but each one
Has been made in the image of the good,
And most manage a pretty good likeness.
Not all, though. There are the sociopaths,
Who don’t know good, and there are the righteous
Who have learned that the only permission
We have for being bad is being good.
One poem was about a snake without bones,
Another about the divinity
Of change, another, a roundabout way,
About the most joyful haunts of angels.
Be the ancestors of something like us.
Humans are not, of course, good, but each one
Has been made in the image of the good,
And most manage a pretty good likeness.
Not all, though. There are the sociopaths,
Who don’t know good, and there are the righteous
Who have learned that the only permission
We have for being bad is being good.
One poem was about a snake without bones,
Another about the divinity
Of change, another, a roundabout way,
About the most joyful haunts of angels.
No comments:
Post a Comment