Horizons

Haunted by the fall of Alexandria
And the loss of the thoughts its works would inspire
We must pull these threads from the fire
Bombarded by
Rhythm from cosmic horizons
Where sacrificial altars
Call to the dead
Beeeee… hold Aeons of systematic Deeee… cay
The reformation of all archaic
We are the privileged few
Who stand For an instant aware
Of our moment in time
Neither Ozymandias nor Tithonus
Could accept their impermanence
Intellectually and corporally
We are all doomed eventually
In this space
At this time
How should we live?
What sort of people should we be?
With the benefit of
History, literature, philosophy,
And no transcendent being’s authority.
With understanding and self-mastery
We can engage our lives
For the benefit of humanity
Beeeee… hold Aeons of systematic Change
The reformation of all archaic
Bombarded by
Rhythm from cosmic horizons
Where abandoned altars
Are transformed anew