is there no assurance of things long remembered?
a steady rhythm to recall the object of my derision
I, a small and feeble thing
confessing words that strain to match the intensity
of men with chests, barreled full of poetry
a thing long forgotten, it not I
and a placid sea of tense and tea
maybe it’s better to be blessed
than to arrange fallen line comedies,
an orangutan harangue and pitiful pigs
the procession never ends
this evolution is revolving round
flaccid round a cosmic point that dwindles
it must be something that collapses into nothing
what then remains of things long remembered?
better left lamented, love cements itself
till the bitter end begins again
and again I strain to see the point
where the small and feeble thing
becomes worthy of a king, it not I
pardon me, pardon me amidst the sea
find a steady rhythm to recall
a line forgotten in royal geometry
the wave stands still yet what remains
a pillar of salt just right, his not mine
then left a tragic stain
remember the pronouncement, again
a thing long remembered,
never more, never mine, I resign
