There is the thought that pity us should move
Who seek to works of Stupid God disprove,
Effects of those devoted to remove
That stain the world and keep it from its best.
Yet pity never will them to their rest
Escort, deeds done at Stupid God’s behest,
And pity will but breed a lack of care
To certain make that out of everywhere
Those works are taken that have wrought despair.
Such cannot be allowed to stay in place,
Lest they take root again and grow apace,
Choking wisdom as they speed on and race
To rise up and throw down a better light
That would their folly place too much in sight.
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