Such a Divine Comedy – Time

December 10, 2014 § Leave a comment

I. Paradise

Antediluvian nightmares

From beyond

Chimera’s euphoric dream.

Space trips at the centre

Tearing reality at the seam.

As masters of the universe

We are inextricably linked,

Inexorably connected by

Life’s unrelenting curse

Our marriage to the hearse.

The enigmatic attraction

To the restriction of the void

Is that we’re always seeing further

And

Wanting more:

To bare witness to the core.
But now…

I need time
And he needs me;
Together we will be kind,
In kind,
To all of humanity.

Life is a spontaneous and
Prestigious master who makes
Eternity an absurd oddity:
Impeccably planning a destiny
Filled with serendipitous
And fateful organisation:

Such abstract ambition!
Such orgiastic euphoria!
Such immanent apotheosis!

Such is the sublime.

II. Purgatory

With deliberating certainty

We race towards truth

Seeking beauty

That lies

Between beginnings and ends:

From Cassandra’s complex condition

To Shakespeare’s mad rendition:

From Homer’s first Iliad

To the Simpson’s final silly dad.

After laughter and before tears

Exploring the ethereal plains for years,

Searching through them

For someone

Who duplicity cares,

Needing an entity who rigorously stares.

III. Inferno

But shame; oh horror,
The people who judge!
The colours are angry
They flicker and smudge.

Do we do what we’re told because
We should?
Or we must?

Are we attractive
Through love
Or lust?

We are who we are through the things that we see:
Inexplicable need for more time is the key.

Within

Without

I see surreal truth in me;
Is there anything more beautiful than she?

Panic stricken and out of control
The abyss grows like the black hole:

Nothing escapes and nothing is consumed;
All things are returned and must be resumed.

Why am I like this?
Did I decide or did they?

Strategically placed
Our lives are encased
By maniacal media
Who frame our thought.

This decent into madness,
Is how it begins;
Filling the chasm

By

Breaking away.

Orpheus’ lost
Humanity’s the cost.

Post Script

Nighttimes intoxicated realm blurs softly into dawn;
The crepuscule fades dutifully, till the morn is reborn.

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