In the end, everything turns out
right, like the last ten verses
of Job, where rings are given
in supplication and apology. Where sheep
reappear in fields and stand bleating
next to a thousand yoke of
oxen. Where the latter days are
blessed more than the beginning. Where
even ghosts of lost children stand
exhumed by the voices of new
ones, more fair than the first.
In this ancient language, there is
one meter for heated debate and
a second for lament. There has
never been any consideration of another.