What phrenzy in my bosom rag’d

22

I am but a fragment
In a history of drops
Words drip evolution
Language burn sentience
We are mystic support

Each giving voice
To a musical theme
We all intuitively felt
I am but a fragment
Residing in the muse

Of my generation
Which will be your generation
The voices of the past
Speak to me like intimate friends
Literature my sanctuary

Mystics, prophets, these are
My starting point
Greetings to the gods
Who have come and gone
And died, glory to

Philosophies no longer read
The myths we transcend
For new myths
The social construct
And many threads of our lives

I am but a fragment
A poem that the birds dismiss
A radiant charm once confessed
From a civilization that was
Too lavish to endure

In a vacuum of information
Time herself we sacrificed
For a golden roof above
For a moment of our love.

7 thoughts on “What phrenzy in my bosom rag’d

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