Hell is empty. O that has come to pass <br />which the cut Alexandrian foresaw, <br />and Hell is empty. <br />Lightning fell silent where the Devil knelt <br />and over the whole grave space hath settled awe <br />in a full death of guilt. <br /> <br />The tinchel closes. Terror, & plunging, swipes. <br />I lay my ears back. I am about to die. <br />My cleft feet drum. <br />Fierce, the two-footers club. My green world pipes <br />a finish—for us all, my love, not some. <br />Crumpling, I—why,— <br /> <br />So in his crystal ball them two he weighs, <br />solidly, dreaming of his sleepy son, <br />ah him, and his new wife. <br />What roar solved once the dilemma of the Ancient of Days, <br />what sigh borrowed His mercy?—Who may, if <br />we are all the same, make one.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-56-hell-is-empty-o-that-has-come-to-p/
