Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Ozymandias's Truth

A sleep forsaken to awaken
Broken sheaths of crystal lakes
Fragmentations, undulations,
Sturdy holds, we longed to take.

To where, to whom, to what, and how-
The cloaked jury in the stands
Could not stop ancient Rome from sinking
Deeper into rugged sands.

A lighthouse light too dim to see,
A sea too dim- Medusa’s bed.
Her raft did only float the living
To consume the grateful dead.

A never-ending site- we’ll dig through
Rusted doctrines to appease
The black-cloaked monks of Tintern Abbey
Whispering through willow trees.

1 comment:

Write me a song.