
With origination The only certain, Cessation.
Ideas realized
Like breath in the wind,
the disillusioned see not
the three gems within.
Profess how I long, Through metered song To rhythmic tick and every tock Of celestial cosmic clock, That counts by years, A turning golden gear, For thy scared kiss, Beloved, Eurydice, Veiled by chimeric myst Of the depths of hell, Where twice you fell. Forever together in heart, Ever in temporal plane apart.
Reflections during a summer solstice… Content in the realization that the declination of my Earthly Sol now travels north, toward final winter’s hibernation. To what point oratory hyperbole and grandiloquence bombast? Magniloquence verbosity with pomposity elocution? Eloquence replaced with rant and discourse, and oration displaced by balderdash fustian frustration. Waxing exclusive warring tribes, and inkish snide eclipsing waning inclusive benevolent compassion. You know not me, nor I any more learned of you. Where does humanity hide?
The keen
concede
their ignorance.