hours before the dawn
and such dreams that arise
the flesh is weak and despised
but hollow eyes cry silver tears
like starlight streaming in rivulets
down each tiny crack and crevase
of the face; hopes and dreams displaced,
hiding beneath the masque of sanity
and the ultimate banality
of day to day living seems an interminable chore.
oh, how the mighty have fallen!
such Ozymandian splendor, the waste
caused by hubris and decay! and the day
comes when one of the titan’s children
shall rise and swallow the whole globe,
dread Hesperon from subterranean throne
ruling all vengful passions with
the iron fist of fleshly pleasure;
O Fair, where are the simple, innocent joys
once enjoyed? and where the quiet dream,
the star-stuff of which we all are made
fades, is sucked into the black hole
of desperate denial and blacker rage.
O Fair, where are the pleasant dreams of you?