If God Foreknows Everything, He
has Already Agonized for an Eternity
No rebel myth of iron, or lead, or gold
Presumes that we should feel a molten ruth
For God. No revolt, even in one fold
Of plot or detail, hides a prophet’s truth
That pity for Almighty God should well
Up lava-like from deep inside our chests.
The bravery of Prometheus and fell,
Rash Satan, cobalt courageous, suggests
That we should throb with sympathy for their
Positions stretched out underneath a beak
Or roasting in infernal pangs. This pair
Thinks we should flinch at their harmonious shriek.
God suffers, though, in an immortal clime
We nominate for Him, eternal time.