The gyre turns
Into a semipermeable void,
Fiction and Substance.
Longed-for Anarchy eludes us,
Too free for chaos,
The blessed inherit slavery
An empty throne
Before a semi-liberated people,
Power and guilt.
Rich fields absent shepherds,
Undone by charity
The people perish for lack of Knowledge.
A crumbling precipice
The inheritance of a drunkard,
Not hot or cold.
Falconer absent prey
Hero without quest
Laodicea slouching towards apotheosis.
~JS 5/5/2020
