Folding Away
Now we are elapsing into ourselves every hour every dayGods chosen emperor is old, the holy monarch has turned gray
We must do just as we are told in all this we have no say,
Flowers are folding unto themselves in dreams of light
Reading words that were never meant to be written down
Towers are falling into the fields of almost night
Something stirs beyond the reaches of all that was known
In all this we have no say, We must do just as we are told
Every hour of the day, into ourselves where we all fold
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2021-04-25 at 22:11
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