Van Ryn

An ode.

Sometimes Job does not get his due
but sometimes solace is his instead —
Some say choosing he chose not true
but they like he are alas now dead;
Where are they who dispute such now
of who repeating the selfsame lie
Mouths are moving but know not how
to make of nature the moving eye?
Ryn the master of motion’s law
of color moving in silent state
Ever praised by whomever saw
his stately, motionless color-plate?
See him therefore as one in need
but far exceeding in what he gave
Who is he of such wealth indeed —
who is not robbed for a pauper’s grave?

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