From Friends to Strangers
A poem —
I can feel myself shrinking under your gaze,
All the years crumble as I begin to fade,
My words of comfort are nothing against your faint trace,
A scarce image of who I believed you were yesterday.
How soon Rome rose to its ashes and reclaimed
Your fossils as a mere mirage to this fanfare,
False pretense and unnerving ends,
The fallacy of what it meant to be a friend.
Shoulders carried and boulders thrown,
Your deepest desires wrung from gold,
Excavating queries from artifacts and theories from loans,
Admonishing all the professors and their running scorn.
Unearthing the myth of the philosopher's stone,
Guarding the fences from a darker force,
Chasing the streets to a scarlet door,
Braving the odds for the chance of something more.
The glory to honour the Greeks and bestow
A sense for kleos far from home,
Opening the gates for a morning owned
Entirely by a fleet enumerated by each row.
