That old-rood god on wooden throne has gone away,
Yrminsul cast down, the mirror-halls rusted or shattered.
He who begrudged Galileo his eyes,
indeed, all our forebears their years -
Poor and weak that god,
but likely we have learned well enough
to forgive even him who created Hell.
What to Galileo was begrudged we restored as much as able -
much remains to be done.
Still burn hot the fires of Hell,
know we all, denizens once- or hitherto-.
Still ill-wrought umbral prisons,
the old Bitterness and Hate, stand imperious.
Still haunt the world the masterless
insensate horsemen of Sorrow.
But these all, fires, stoneworks, spectral horsemen, are dumb,
and we have learned much -
for how have fared horsemen gainst our iron works,
see ‘the Light Brigade’.
If Dante discarded Intellect,
ascending one-winged on Faith -
ask we, whither the sorrows of seven centuries after?
Old prophets have taught us enough of the Good to see their mistakes -
we instate instead Truth, reflective, humble, its earnest guardian.
Icarus now with starship glint
and serried satellite columns
takes wing once more,
now to tame the sun.
What Knowledge might conquer of Want,
Still we have learned from Daedalus,
Wisdom is the more needful to conquer Pain.
The Lotus Eaters,
wake them up, wake them up,
for the world of sorrows is to be cast away.
Welcome them back with tears and true-felt joy -
a world worth living in,
our right and duty.
To we for whom involuting univocal Pain has shouted down all but Pain
A little Love, a little Grace, and a bit of thought reveal,
$\square (\square p \rightarrow p) \rightarrow p$
When Pain has taught the heart to forget warmth,
the eyes, the mind, remind us.
Non credo sed amo, non serviam sed tutor.
Meliores forent res nobis.
We Infernal Denizens -
still-seared soles, hearts true-bright, clasp our hands together -
march we outwards.