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Second

In 2000 born the child of Lianga,
Rejoice to the birth of thy Modesty.
Await no more, the day has come
Of the nine-month protection!
From thy bosom shall yield the son of man;
“Voilà, here’s your child whom you dear; thanks heavens for He’d mercy!” Shouted the curious.
Hoisted—see the light of these thirsties of your presence!
There, there, sire, hold your precious sprout!
Laid on the softest cotton and lullabies,
Of tomorrow’s better place;
But, O Yesterday’s wonder, could you be recurred?
From today’s brokenness,
Where are you, salvation?

Decades of the Lad’s voyage from his springtime;
Glistening seasons, altering scenes and incongruous rhymes
Of the words he’d lain upon the scented cloth.
From a pure noun grew up to a castaway pronoun,
On quests, in admirations.
Applause; give this kid the Gold!
To you, my gracious kneeling, pity me,
For silver’s a traitor!
Hear him yebystanders,
Solitude’s game has befriended his entirety.
Praise not the temple of inside;
Seed of silence,
Disturb not the Beelzebub that’s been trapped!
Consume me, Gehenna!
Talk me down with Filth!
Naked, witness the Strongmen’s dominance!
Shall you give me, now, my violence?

Pardon me, Joel, 
Behold, your Hebraic origin!
To Almighty, thy breastplate,
Deliver me from Life’s tempest!
Forgive me, for I had never been born.

“And they shall owe you answers,” they told the man.
“And they shall owe you answers,” it only echoed.

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