Athena, your wisdom accrued th’ou’ght the generations

And sufficient unto itself were the measurements of Pi.

You saw you broke the moral law of mankind’s herds of white sheep.

Instead of finding Grace, you found her name’s etymology.

You said to yourself, “There can be no God, for Line’s upon Line.”

You looked upon Solomon’s wisdom and said, “I may now steal.”

You looked upon Moses’ wisdom, and said, “I shall now kill.”

You spoke about David, “I may enter another man’s wife.”

Then the scripture became a license to do numerous crimes.

Grace, you figured, by her etymology, was made by Greeks.

So with that, you forgot wisdom. So with that, you forgot Who

Charity is. You defined her as Desire. Like Plato.

You said, “There can be nothing certain, except what is measured.”

Is not love measured? Is not kindness? Is not Joy and peace? Friend?

Yet you could not see them anymore to measure them. Could you, friend?

For words are more than etymologies. They are what they mean.

I will not take your crown, Athena. For it is suffering.

It is living with no knowledge, for wisdom annulled it all.

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