Language Cosmos, i.e., pain raved in me with a diabolic tongue.

Searching for the above line –
	Because I am in pain,
	Pain that obliterates like winter
	Morning fog, pain that you
	Often felt and wrote about.

Though the cosmos –
	Of this book of thousand odd
	Poems of celebration and 
	Lamentation, written over 
	Nearly a century of your
	Earthy, earthly life.

I come to language –
	In this curious city of trees
	And capitalism, in a country
	You had called a moderately corrupt
	Republic once, as I riffle through 
	Your unburied, devoutly Catholic,
	Yet not dogmatic, bones again,
	And taste the lines I had underlined 
	In red ink, falling on my novice 
	Tongue like sacramental wine.