Crossing Acheron

though he had known every quantity
of life:
its short repose,
its indefinite strike; though
he had knowledge of the
indifferent span of evening and daylight

and the repetitious metaphysic of
sound and fury; though life
had been every superstitious quality
of sensate being, he,
with indifference, collected the
manifold days into folded gestures

and prayed God make merciful
the remaining hours

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