Sonnet For the Slain: Spiritual Suicide

Absent ever to turn thy gaze away;

Vexed be— the pith of birth, erelong to thee.

Death's grip he knows, linger in thy dismay;

Prudence spoils himself, corrupt he be.

Now stands the pyrrhonist with sights amiss,

Of doom, of spite, of wayward enterprise;

Oh be Nature, yes the timeless witness!

Dawns veils of change— be man's greatest disguise.

His heart decayed, prideful steps be thy walk.

He wears thy crown like Ozymandias;

Away amongst from thee Almighty God

Dead was, dead thou long last— dead thou beest.

Long lived thee sought to be suffers he still;

Voided of peace kills him— be thy free will.