Relentless and vile, that wicked thing…
Evil, ever striving against the light,
Seeking its demise and then, from it,
Escape, a twisting, eluding, evasion
Good then, must plant its wrathful sting
In return, even double, triple, to spite
And each, standing, must overcome it…
Rising to that dutiful, somber occasion
In this deep spiral of ethical confusion,
Cometh the horns of the beast, with its stinger
Stickier, dicier, bits of the question…
Who sits in righteous judgement of the wrong?
Which of us is upright, free from all illusion?
Who may, in fairness, be the bringer
Of justice, penalties, implications, suggestion
Who’s sees truth and, if ever, how long?
Kevin Trent Boswell
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