To rise above
Dreams parapet
Its ancient voice
Lest to forget
The bitterness
Once bestowed
A manuscript
Yellowed and old.
The ages scream
The prophet dies
The wandering
Of many lies
Temples fall
About holy men
Devoid of power
Their casting spell.
Angel throngs
Now tears weep
Marbled wings
Lull to sleep
The epitaph
Of dying verse
The poets eyes
Succumb to words.