Saturday, March 18, 2006

Friday Poetry Blogging:

Some day at last, no mornings come
Beneath a dead, orbitless sun
There is no "distance," "here," or "from,"
Time's arrow will outfly its run.

When dreams are sifted into dust
And all achieved is only lost
And everything we thought me "must"
Is ground to filth, despite its cost

When all are gone, no thoughts remain
Ozymandian stumps no longer stand
The universe flattened to a darkling plain
What could note the loss of man?

In the absence of a seeing eye
No universe will wheel by
No one perceive or understand
Why then, again, it must expand.

Thaddeus Rogers Eutha

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