The Novel

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
All that glitters is not gold
But if it were, what would we say
When we found what was not old
"A new god, a new era, a new day"?
The imprecations roar, and why not
Do we grasp as the crow has got
A new bauble - "make way, make way
For the future bright and star-shot"?

The novel - and the era so named
For a litany of splendid things
Which pass before, brazen, inflamed
With passion on passion's wings
The eyes do not know what they're seeing
But it has never been seen, freeing
The mind to wish what it brings
And never understand its being.
a postscript is here written:
"As engineers, a new shiny component is a marvel, in and of itself. As a priest, it is an entry vector for the demonic. Both view[s] are valid, and must be held in tension."

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous10:28

    Or do we shy and turn away
    Safe in the comfort of grey and grown
    Knowing that another may
    Grab and hold, make their own
    Fire the belly, swords at night
    Howl the wind, test the light
    Drink whisky late, with men
    And pause and wonder, yet again.


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