he noticed a piece of it
shining through the pane
at rest on his thigh.
They accused Newton of unweaving it
cutting the plume down to a cold prism.
He only documented revelations of a keen eye
marvelling sublime poetry
within hard laws.
A street preacher blissfully receives the sign
on a mongral day: rainfall mixed with golden rays
The mere presence of it
adds timber to his fiendish desire
to be counted amongst the winners
when the world shall burn.
It is a reminder of God's wrath
and grace,
he automates
mouthing a thankful prayer.
Young lovers of the same sex.
They see it as their coat of arms
adorning a flag to hold tight.
They brave scouling faces.
The faithful crowd
they're blood boils
to see it reframed.
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