Inscribed upon papyrus with a language that gradually varies over millennium,
the fragile fountain of a writers manuscripts flourishes,
unrevised on parchment,
unreviewed with an excessive maxim,
the sentiment of past considerations silently speak,
upon eyes not yet indispensable.
From a tomb of superstition,
where mathematical equations,
furnished the sensibilities of stone raised monuments,
their hereditary strength becomes exposed.
Such a forgotten planet,
we would always search for,
such a new planet,
we have not left,
quite yet.
© Copyright 2018 Dr. Acula. All rights reserved.
Comments
You are an excellent poet doc. This is very extraordinary. This piece expells a sense of linger and time itself. Incredible .
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Something about some ancient people writing some piece, crossed my mind and if it would mean the same thing to us as it did to them, in this moment, and then we arrive at now, as we will eventually become the ancient people one day, writing things that make sense to us, that might makes sense in the future, And that one thing makes sense, through out time.
( it could have been anything in this piece, but I went with searching for a new planet, a new home, because I find it strange they thought this thousands of years ago. )
( a better theme may have been learning to live in peace with one another, getting along, in the here and now, and not trying to run away, but you get the point lol )
Just thought I;d share that with ya' )))
Thank you for your kind words, Christopher !
Brilliant work, Doc, you never cease to amaze me with your unique writing. It is excellent!
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Oh, your a sweetie. Thank you Lisbeth !
Excellent poem, doc, about a magical putting green, if I'm not mistaken?
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I'm starting a mini golf driving range ! At the 19th hole, we all win gelato, if we dunk the clown. This of course involves no putters, but the ability to throw with precision. We pick up the ball and chuck it.
Guess whose waiting to be dunked !
Someone, who must not get their rug wet ))
Thank, Smike!
Historical culture culturally expressed. Nice work, Doc.
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Someday, this version of the internet, an outdated inscription of and about itself, will become the papyrus paper of ourselves, as we the ancestors of our futuristic explorations, scrawled away our lost ambitions.
Maybe, the future will read this. They'll probably laugh at us. That's okay though !
We should laugh at them.
Based upon their past !
( deep thoughts with Doc lol )
Something like that.
Thanks Hully.
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