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Prodigy (standard:poetry, 187 words)
Author: kendall thomas Added: Nov 18 2003Views/Reads: 2743/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The futility of life and art.


by Will 


Where is that dream time of youth and wonder 

when all the waking avenues of life seemed open before me 

and bejeweled skies beckoned in that august dawn? 


What fabulous kingdoms my lucid mind devised. 

What riches beyond wealth compiled. 

What beautiful women wondrous beyond desire. 

And mine, all mine, for a touch of gold 

that came so easily in that dawn. 


Ah, Lucifer, how you did then despair, 

yet laugh now at my ragged ware 

that age has brought so low. 


A dreamer dead in a garden fair, 

I held council with the worm, the leaf, the stone. 

The silent stone always won 

without a word, but eloquent. 


I threw a host of stars into the air, 

and back they came as pale, brown leaves 

murmuring with a broken throat 

a thistled truth 

that time had run 

and I, my clever I, was done. 


I held a thought in my hand 

and squeezed it tightly, 

yet it ran, 

and when I was done, 

night rushing truth had won 

and recognition gave and took, 

and I was gone. 


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