The Stygian Lake
Sinners spin beneath the white caps, slugging it out in contrition
Their giant fists swinging like currents
Stirring up silt and clouding their judgment
Their mouths froth and whitewash foams along the coast line
Like white stallions stampeding the beach
Snapping driftwood under hoof
And snorting salt spray
And watching all the while, the Absolved
Who ceased their struggle ages past
By letting hot air leak from their lungs
Whistling through lips and bubbling up as hollow spheres
Out into the firmament
As comes to pass for one and all, both large and small
Souls sink low into the pillowed embrace of shifting sands and ever-after
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