[POEM] An Ode to Romantic Illusions


When firm ground gives way beneath

and falling is the ever-motion

of men who fear to fall,

gravity is declared deceit.

Men kill the loud commotion,

demanding order from the chaos call.

This is the nature of unavoided panic;

to embrace the loss of sanity

as the normalcy of humanity.

And what else is he? Man. Placid

in his revolution, his crazy

crescendos and bow-down parties;

the battle cries of distaste for life.

On and on the currents of illusion push

the lemmings farther over the ledge.

The ever-motion is our strife

and yet we dare not turn. We rush

to death as if to the light – the illusion’s edge –

and take all those ’round us along

in our devastation of lifetimes, without regard

to what may have laid ahead for us.

Oh, how quickly we dismiss ourselves, prolong

the pining for what has scarred

the reality of human purpose.

Can we not let go? Drop off this

pack mentality of moral conscience,

of the proper lines of sanity,

and rise up? Shall we dismiss

the boundaries which shed our blood, the violence?

Let loose the dogs beyond the gates of vanity

and what lies before your eyes. Go insane!

Clean the slate of your purpose, of why

you breathe, and see the other side of the ethical

code. For here we are, at the reign’s

finality – the edge of the legend sky –

and we have become our own sentinel.


I honestly have no idea. Got into a rhythm of a Horatian ode and it just kept going… But I like it. 🙂


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