Sweet hatred

Sweet Hatred

Is hatred so bad?
Is it, while it is had,
A harmful, fruitless thing
Thwarting the soul
In its natural delight
In its noble Godly goal?

Is it bad to gladly rejoice
In the pain of the hated one?
To feel the sadness in their pleasure
To hate them that love them
In equally despised measure
And, with unfettered fancy seek to condemn

Or is this a form of madness?
A loathing of the loathing self
A sadness yet to be expressed
When calculated in the grand eternal sum
That estimates our worth
As disembodied, acting ideas done

But no such eternal sum there will be
In no such realm of calculated virtuosity
No intellectual order with encompassing intellectual love
Where sub specie eternitatis all things viewed
By enduring spirit, unagitated, passionless
With imaginative resistance removed