The Eternal God Palace

How close to the earth will we have fallen, 

Said the first banished angel to the second; 

When we feel the first wave of it's revealing, 

That melancholy of human mind not healing? 

What was once our duty to monetize repair, 

Now is levied against us equal in measure; 

We've privatized it's cloak as equally shared, 

Lost our immunity to the comfort of leisure. 

But is it possible to survive this purgatory, 

Their hygiene is so disgustfully inadequate? 

The affliction's a constant reminder of story, 

That behind the decorum God has hazmat? 

That indeed there are dirty jobs somebody, 

Has to do, to keep the worlds limping along; 

This is terrible, us in the trench's all shoddy, 

We haven't the stomachs, or backs as strong. 

We haven't broken 'sweat' in over an 'epoch', 

Much less labored for hours upon hour's end; 

I'm sorely fearful that this punishment is epic, 

Us here to endure the things we didn't mend.