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These Last Days of Troy

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These Last Days of Troy

Postby Kassandra » Thu Apr 03, 2014 11:28 pm

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These Last Days of Troy



But perhaps the dream, hidden in plain sight, had been dreaming us.




I. Sleeping Priestess

Cassandra, by Sybille Serk.jpg
Artwork: Cassandra, copyright 2010 (c) Sybille Sterk
magpiemagic.blogspot.com/2010/03/cassandra-photo-manipulation.html#.U0DNifRDuSo


Cassandra recalled the day the angels fell,
how the sky had darkened so,
how the land had heaved so,
how so-called "gods," like spurned Apollo,
openly proved themselves false,
just fake smiles from the skies,
anything but good,
lying to the masses who, perhaps,
could have really used
some cheap sunglasses.

With hope she’d peered beyond the smoky firmament
searching for any binary star, any invisible sun
that might give its heat to everyone
and thaw the cold fate of Terra, Sol III,
of its inhabitants, and of the sickly,
poisoned seas
washing over it.
But, she found none.

She remembered the final breaths of her father, Priam,
how he hadn’t believed, as hadn’t countless others
to their ruthless, yet so avoidable, demise.

Overwhelmed, she resigned herself
within the confines of a rabbit hole
as around her cities, nations
burned to desolate ashes
carried in the wind.



II. Of Lessons Learned

The Trojan Horse.jpg
Artwork: The Trojan Horse, copyright 2012 (c) Howard David Johnson.
howarddavidjohnson.com/Z79.htm


In the last days of Troy,
in its final moments,
a remnant of Trojans would realize,
forced to abandon the cherished apathy
that blissfully lulled them for so long,
having awakened too late
to the merciless clarity that comes
from regrettable retrospect...

That remnant would realize
that one does well to
carefully look every political,
every religious, every technological,
every extraterrestrial gift horse
in the mouth, no matter
how nifty a gift it may seem.

And that remnant would realize
one does well to eschew any
tempting sense of entitlement,
despite how easy such
has been for Terrans
to assume in the past.

For too great is the risk
of the sweet Terran dream
being no more than
a bitter, hidden nightmare.

Too great is the threat of
that which may lie
both within
and without.




III. Of Lessons Forgotten

Angel of Grief.jpg
Photo source: fuckyeahangelofgrief.tumblr.com/

Here and there echoing “if onlys”
arresting the maddened souls
of the remnant, the disembodied ones
remembering what used to be:
"If only we slaves had not
revered our chains
so very, very much..."
"If only..."
"If only..."
"And, if only..."

Here and there sweeping tonics,
Music of the Spheres accompanying
ethereal voices of lament
reciting the litanies
of a futile cosmic requiem
of “could haves,”
of “should haves,”
of “would-have-been-had-we-only-knowns...”

But yet again, those Terran souls
forget their karmic lessons
left smoldering
in the ashes of Troy.

And yet again,
all their
beautiful nightmares
begin anew.

And the rest is silence.








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:fairy: bling ~ Have a magical day, now ~

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