My frozen gaze ticks the hours of a clock
that beats like an empty heart .
Queen and pharao's daughter ,
bride of the sun ,
fierce mother of warrior princes ,
plucked from the sands of the valley ,
now a museum piece ,
mocked by burger king's greasy kids
on whose heads hangs the curse
of times in chains ...
So long ago ,in the morning ,
I contemplated the radiant star
rising over a harmonious world .
My soul filed with the peaceful flow
of the sacred river .
Death and life merging into one ,
to heaven ascending the ritual of the perfect.
On my supple body ,like a pristine lotus
the maid dripping subtle ointments
and heady scents ...
So I feel asleep in the cool
of an untouchable crypt .
Eager hands awakened me ...
I'm so cold now .
My parched skin bathed by the grey waters
of an unknown river
upon which the king star sets ...
So what's the price you pay
for a stolen paradise ?
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: April 27th, 2025 06:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Online)
Comments2
Do I detect a metaphor here? The last lines and question make me wonder. A lovely write of history now present.
Civilizations lost in the mists of time also have the right to rest .
This final question is like a moral judgment on the era. The abduction of paradise, the destruction of memory, the transformation of the past into a stage set - all this has a price.
I've opened the doors of time and removed the bandages of oblivion .
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