Oh what shattered words remain, lost now and silent are the chariots of old,

no longer do their wheels of rhyme turn, no longer do our minds take hold.

Gone I am afraid are the splendor of words, much like the days of Rome.

For

in the Forum, you could drink of the vine,

or be entertained by a poets demur play.

if you were born free and you allowed your spirit to soar,

you too could partake on prose of the gods wine.

Alas though dear patrons of verse, it is

No longer as it seems, silent now are the philosophers dreams.

Yeah though I still recall the days of old, when the Forum was the place to go.

I still remember the chariots race, as luminous clouds of thought above Forum arose.

Let no mistake arise, from the verses untimely demise,

For

I Claudiaus awaits in patience for the continuation of PROSE.....

J. Allen Wilson  2001/2003