at the edges of civilization...
within the din forests of this current incarnation of modernity
there is an eating away at what constitutes humankind's
idea of permanence...
insides never meant
to be ever lasting
waver tone principle
temple republic disguised
aggregate masses, weave the people
order has begun to be a languish colored flag
and decency is uncommon
and seems riddled with cancer
though we thought, at one time, that could be
remedied, only by reading, ironically...
at the edges of civilization
we are what daylight is strung with
ritualized by seasons and calendrical adhesion
we are, a tried tired decadent hesitancy
an ever wanting setting in,
remember, falling is flying
sometimes too, you hear Prometheus say...
who is really selling
tickets and trinkets
to the when(s) and where(s)
you fell, I fell, we all fell
getting well when said
we needed bells
to repair our ears...
so we might soon forget
the music of when
we were the same
as an angel's wings
instead of beings
with weights
on their feet, drowning
in every one of knowledge's
reflective and deep pools...
EJR ©
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