Ex
Libellus Perfidia
--
Neil Austin
Wind-swept,
hard-caked and Sand
That once stood a thousand feet no more;
Here rest the iron ribs of Mammon and Hope.
Sweet Lucifer sleeps in a dry bed,
Her reading lamp extinguished long ago,
Her yearning and teeming now forgotten.
The ancient god consumes his own flesh,
Grows swollen red and indifferent, he toasts,
To the one sprung fully formed, now dead.
The Glorious Center of Creation!
She dances alone with her ghosts;
A strand of tears once named Diana.
Poseidon died slowly here,
Hidden treasures long lost laid bare,
His propitiation of gold and steel declined.
The Noble Ones, The Lovers and Poets,
Criminals, Cowards and Fools,
All meaning means nothing more or less.
Through the endless cold seldom interrupted
An eternity of night and sorrow,
The Others, unsatisfied, begin their game anew.