O sweet muse!
You have shown me so much.
For that I am grateful.
I’ve seen the living fossils
Evolving from the mud.
I’ve seen the passing of empires
Built on dust and blood.
Fearful men came and went.
Ozymandias statues crumbled to the ground
As new ones were erected over them.
I’ve seen the fires of revolution
The bloody rivers of war and conquest.
Now you point on.
I shake with the thought of future terrors I have yet to see.
You, like the angel of death before my grave,
Silently point to that cobweb encrusted door
Begging me to see that dreaded inscription.
Please muse, I say, must I push on?
Still silently, the bony finger
Clasping blackened scythe
Urges me to push on