Pathos . . Or Tender Love And Understanding . . .
Pathos came from the skies, but he didn't stay long.
He didn't like what he saw.
The sight of a man hanging by a rope,
His poor toes pointing accusingly to the spoilt earth.
Brackish water, you cannot drink in with your eyes,
Flesh you need not eat, so greedily devoured without any pity.
Acrid air you cannot breathe, burning away the soul of a world.
This world never to know from beginning to terrible end, a moment's peace.
How beautiful it looked from way above.
A dead animal may look fine until you turn it over,
Then you see the maggots underneath . . .
Joanne Robins.