CCXXXIX and CCXL (a double sonnet)

A countless host of men and women toiled

without a cause to stand upon at all.

In cruel survival were this host embroiled,

subjected to an earth-wide grace-less fall.

But in the hearts of this great host of men

was godly passion of a gracious pace.

Some bitterness betimes—no doubt—and then

an unimaginably godly grace.

From fall, this host, divided and distraught,

united (on their own!) across the earth,

and taught each other every good they’d caught

despite their history of endless dearth!

And, looking on, the God of Heaven smiled,

as happy as the Father of a child:

“It’s easy now to see: they search for Me,

in everything they are and strive to be.

I made them all forget Me and run free,

but still from all you’ve given them, they flee!”

“And how successful this experiment!

For soon I rend the veil that keeps them blind.

The evidence shall flow without relent

that these are good, and full of love, and kind.”

“For in the darkness they have furnished light,

and give it back to all that they now know.

They take each wrong and wring from it the right,

as far as their mortality can go.”

And when the sad Accuser heard this word,

he cried anew—for man had God assured.