The Wild Winds Weep Tears of Rage


The Idiot, Goya

The wild winds weep tears of rage

and howl in bitter pain

at the certain fate of human kind

by hubris now brought low,

ravaged by bold ignorance,

by avarice seduced,

lost in lust with eager death

their lust for smell of war,

who yet upright, amazed, surprised,

awakened, see our bodies full of wounds,

and look on in splendid wonder

as from our wounds blood flows,

the skies in stormy fury rage,

the raging fires burn,

the raging seas rise up as one,

yet still we blunder on,

as if in childish games we live,

of skip and blind man’s bluff,

as if our life’s an endless maze

of twist and turnabout,

unsure the way we entered in,

in fear we’ve no way out.


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