Abrasive Swirling Murk

There are places
Not to be found but to be recognized
They sheltered a fire
The fire wherein the acts of God
And the acts of men were to melt and merge
Making it a a senseless chore
To distinguish the human from the divine
God resides in such places
And it is where He conspires
At the devastation
Of what took him so long to accomplish
It is where the sentence matured and was declared
In joint responsibility

Yet, wasn't this an act of compassion?
Like the shooting in the head
Of a horse with a broken leg
Your cry of revolt and disbelief -
A brief caesura in the slowing heartbeat of the world
As if a horrible new pain
Had been given birth in abomination -
Surges in vain to face the inexorable
Leaving behind but a meager comfort:
There is no exemption for the offspring
Of this withered womb
Not even for Chaos itself
Who can reap the meaning
Of this unstinted negation of centuries and millions
Before it sinks within the infinite depths of that dun ocean?