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Pandora's Box – sonnet
Who would have thought, when Epimetheus
Had seen the utmost beauty sent by gods,
He would not listen to Prometheus,
And keep his hands away? What were the odds?
Because of him, we now have amongst us
All evil things, from pain to very death,
From anger up to illness, and, alas,
From greed up to the envy's stinking breath...
But also, due to him and his embrace
Of warm desire for the beauty found,
When sweet Pandora opened up her case
And all the blights kept spreading all around,
We have one tiny, fragile, magic rope,
That keeps us going on forever: HOPE.
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