Iacchus

I fashioned strut from a compromised symphony of memory
And rehearsed opera's that lasted in the brain's auditorium
And it's dissolute relinquishment, to the plaque of eternity;
The shock of Herald weeping upon a halo-branched Dam,
Made nature spit out it's rapids from each sentient ring;
No longer could that funny child in man freely sing.
Over-ambition was the stolen bolt in my manhood,
Severed by the constant need to be understood;
I defined every living thing
And elucidated every notion
Along with it's spurn of action;
And to all forms of Eschaton,
Which may have been all forms,
I dived to my knees and prayed
To the coolness of the Devil's Breath
Which is but the prayer itself,
And my breath itself: not faith,
For faith was lost in death,
The eternal elevation of life.
The void of meaning strapped to fated sensations
And branded force: I was cursed by contemplations
And visions coral chained by their Ocean brood
Daren't touch, nor allure with vessels of blood
(Out of their murky waters, they would remark!):
Contently subversive, I thawed to the rapids of an Ark
Inept, like me, to ebb and feel depth from the Water's skin,
(Even now) I await fish, indebted to my age growing thin.

I have found infinity in authentic sense

And eternally wise in founded silence...