Crown of Thorns -- Azrael's Tickle...

Today you get the final burp in this corona where each poem starts with the final line of the preceding, except that here you have a piece which consists of the closing lines of the preceding dozen or so poems.

The immage of Azrael, who, next after Lucifer was the most beautiful of the angelic hosts, took upon itself the burden of ugliness in order to bring the kiss of death required by the Eternal -- this has long fascinated my poetic imagination.

He tickles the baby's feet and then its crown.
His name is Azrael, the Angel of Death [he asks]:
"The sweetness of love's embrace and the pains of birth,
can anyone measure the quality of such faith?"

"Beliefs' aren't worth a drop of dried snot,
you know nothing at all if, somehow, you know not
there's no way to avoid them Calvary Blues!"

"You care for, or kill, in all you say and do
your brothers and sisters while the Question hangs in the air:
'Why have you forsaken me?'
'Where are you!'
'Where?'"

"But as for me, somewhere, tin silver bells ring!"

Having drunk a drop of the finest wine,
Such empty prayers become, very nearly, a curse,
however many castles you may build!"