Book of JOB, Chapter 3

Ne'er were the day, born upon the world were I,
Ne'er were the night, such as I came forth,
Darkness reigneth there,
Eternal
Godless, Blackness,
Forever
Death, a Land of Shadows
A Cloud, in fear of Light.
As for this Night of Night,
It cannot be,
Our Calender renounceth it!
Thou shalt not speak upon it!
Damned, Leviathen-Devoured.
Darkling stars that seeketh light
But find it not!
Whose eyes no Dawn shall ever see.
As mine own eyes see not,
For it did not stop
Mine mother's womb.
Still-born
Were sweet dissolution.
Nor treachery, of bended knee
Sweetest suckling engulfeth me.
Quiet, still and rest
Midst the wasted place
Of Kings, of those in Grace
Of guilded Princes in silvery Palaces.
Or snuffed by my mother's self!
No trouble there
A weary head's for sleeping
Master and prisoner dreaming
A likeness seeming.
For Light is Death
And bitter misery.
We long for Death
But find it not
Our treasured treasure!
God-Damned
Sighs with cries
Of fear pursue us
To the Grave.


© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus 2007