To be reckless is to destroy
more than is created
and society all but collapse
in the brutality of it,
for it breeds a mantikore
as seeping poisons ;
Ancient greece never did
survive the tail lash
for it molested children
in its sickly passions ;
they cared not, suddenly
it was normality.
The silken chords are thus
for it can never leave
but grows, grows until there
is nothing but it left
as serpents it writhers wyrds
in language for eyes.
In fate was writ of empires
is to become Empyrs :
at a grave it sits to mourn
the passing of glories
which was buried long ago
Into a monster turns.
It weeps, it cries, it longs
at the gravestone
of youths bed for it repeats
itself as a chant
the waivering sound of
its disparities.
Into spectres and demons
doeth it people turn
for it haunts them as shades
which from scents
laid as flowers at the graves
into the wind blows.
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