Perseus Kneels to the Crowd

As by the grace of a lifetime’s narrowed sight

Perseus knelt upon the blooming sphere

with the regularity of urbanity’s fuzzy light

unbroken by the drum of earthly years

 

He froze the night by medusa’s head

that the meteoric arrow rain

might stand upon its mirror’s bed

mutely dancing through its clouded grain—

 

Rising, ever rising, amidst its dying garden

a thousand years to whither, but never yet the mystery

of what should grant his writers’ pardon

for a thousand years of repetitious history.

Fading Gods

He gazes down from hea’n above,

Watching through a powdered dove.

His people walk the Earth below,

Dreaming of what they can not know.

He sighs and turns away,

As his people begin to go astray.

He wanders then to ancient hall,

Where so many ‘fore had come to fall.

Broken statues linger here,

Of fallen Gods who’d known this fear.

That noble Odin,

That beauty Benten,

Oh great Anubis!—

All fell into the great Abyss…

Fear begins to creep,

Even Gods are known to weep—

Is he destined for this same grim fate?

Can he only pray and wait?

He is as great as any passed,

And his kingdom is so very vast;

He looks into their wand’ring eyes,

Ever watching from the skies.

Is this God destined for the same grim fate,

That fell on those before him?

They say he is so great a being—

But can he face that test of time,

That felled those powers all,

That came before him

In those days of old?