“There is a struggle in man between something ugly and something capable of beauty.” [Richard 1971]
He committed suicide seven years afterward.
Something ugly overwhelmed
the impulse to beauty.
It was nearly unpardonable,
destroying the gift of bodily existence, an infinity
better than nothing, into a mess of rubble.
What anguish afterwards, what regret,
what supplications he made to the compassionate,
the merciful! What plan will the provident
God have for him? Surely, one of the holy saints
who preceded him, some bereft mother,
will guide him higher. The angels, who had covered
their faces with their wings, will then recover.