by Peter S Gardner
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Rage against the iron sky,
Taste the foam and sea spray, cry.
Rage against Time, who has
Struck down the bronze statuary,
Humming with lust for acropolis dust.
Blood and bone sing eulogies
To the mind idols waiting in the night.
We huddle before dawn in a
World without end, breathing
Hunger for light, but burned like
A funeral on the river floating.
Waiting for the sun to strike
Sand from the obelisks,
Time as still life calls.
We return to hollow halls,
And spark another vision like
Green half-light in the spaces
Left vacant by earlier passage.
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|Reviewed by Aberjhani
|A warm throb of visionary passion fills these lines with an heroic determination to establish meaning within a context of TIME REVOLVING that would reduce all to the opposite. In the one, as in this poem, it is the soul that makes all the beautiful difference.|