A Consortium of Grecian Time

Soldier, poet, dramatist

Father of tragedy

You

Changed the

Way we smile.

Mathematical in its

Elements.

Deductions and axiomatic

Postulating. A

Geometry known not prior to

That parallel

Point,

But one

Line may

Pass

Through

Biblical in breadth

A diaspora’s been met

Sowing seeds

Distant far

As close as man

may be

To apotheosis

We’ve yet to see

Classic beauty

Sunbelt crush

Serenity of a

Steadied poise

Lost to

the

Collapsing praise

 Time knows not

What values one puts upon the individual ray, forgetting

About the center’s bubbling blaze—

Throughout history

Man has pushed forgiveness

To its gravest ends

Testing what

Could be rationally

 Abused before

Hollowed ends

Accrue

Humanity is a contrast economy

We strive to breathe descending views

what it means to understand

the opposing schools

Recklessly

We’ve pandered

For centuries long

Creating pacts and promises

Have been

Predicated upon deceitful hues

That wither, wither, fray

We have

Our communion

And yet, we have our

Betrayals, and they are

 felt ever the more

inherent, when composed unto the flesh, and

     unrestrained when composure only lives

yet, we lived,

              albeit in frenzy’s first breath taken,

amongst the soul,

 of the undisciplined, molting clear those spectrums

oft abused

By timelines, we learn to merge into one, into

The Blur that forges a definition, into

That which has yet begun…

from the sun, to the sea and the sky to the tide

No matter the context, in spite of the ride, the lengths and shackles yet unfettered about malnutrition’s feet, deposed by all the deposits of those underachievement’s we’ve ever learned to make… and yet we’ve always understood how to take aim, and that has to count for something, right?

Mankind has ever found itself as the child of a God, how does one live up to that shadow?

So, just to cast their own beacon of distinction, we often abuse the grace of our father, we often stray from the generous path plotted fresh for our soles alone, and instead of living in luxury’s shadow, we chose to bathe in the cold showers of absence, where we so eagerly became

The makers of rain, irrational beasts

Amidst the moistened shade

And yet…

We meditate

Upon mentally

Equipping ourselves

To deal with what comes our way

To follow nature

As does the stem

To its thorn, is

To disseminate

Good and bad

From the indifferences

In-between the dark and the gray

Run, ragged tryin’

     To catch grace upon wings once craved

But these were not intended for

Man. Bull. Lion

     Egg. Coiled—

Cracking, splits

Ticking, cloaks we mask

Through beards untamed.

until

Hands cease  from cross

Again

Falling

Deep

Into

A rece

Ssion we

Simply can

Not return

To the grammar that’s been

Given to us upon

Our births…and we run

         Away, frightened by the photo albums taken from our father’s early days, brimstone, we’ve seen it in his eyes, we’ve smelt it upon his breath, touched it on his hands

Yet, because of our irrational fear

We forget

Warmth is not reserved for hell alone

And

No matter

What we’ve done

Our father

Will

Always

Accept us back

Warmly, in his arms,

The truth can never be rescinded

Not by man or any other beasts we may encounter for advice

Yet, Just that alone, makes one wonders

Why do we seek advice from outside sources

When the wealth of the world exists within our father