where careless gods ruleA Poem by RomaJ
This world can be mercy,
a soft rehearsal for eternity, where even suffering has meaning and the dark bends toward dawn. Life can be the closest one comes to fire. Other times, it is the feast before the famine, the glittering illusion before the fall. Ease can feel like the nearest taste of heaven. Here on earth, where careless gods rule, the wealthy, the privileged, tongues of promise, hands too clean to touch the poor. They climb a glass mountain and rise in a hollow glide inside a silent lift. They toss the world like dice and souls like stones, skimming across shadowed waters, believing even gravity bows to their will. Their power is absolute silence with the wind too thin to carry protest. Their future measures itself against the weightlessness of their past, not a long journey through fire but a single, sudden terrible drop. Yet even where careless gods rule their dominion ends where the sun burns out and where the moon’s cold face turns away. Beyond all light and shadow reigns the Name no mouth can master, whose mercy mends what men have broken and whose voice stills the wind and gathers the scattered home. © 2025 RomaJAuthor's Note
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Added on October 24, 2025Last Updated on October 24, 2025 |

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