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
As
witness.
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