Wounds Of Byzantine
Come now, rather, come and see,
See, when time avails -
Dust devil trails in Martian sands,
Rails across the Amazon, till
Wounds of Byzantine -
Luddite rebels, war machines -
Isaiah’s seraph and Constantine.
And now, this automation,
Prodigious child of innovation -
Marveled at first activation,
Until the Matrix screen.
I simply die, but you,
You perish, as things of beauty often do -
Go now, rather, go ascend, and
Rise, when winds prevail.
Go beg some praises from your master -
Return like bad mail, to my arms,
Bound, my love, like a thrift shop overdraft -
Fail to nurse these shrapnel scars,
Torso-etchings, lines of Mars, till
Wounds of Byzantine.
*From the book: Vapours of Promise, ©2004 - ISBN 1-59526-352-7