This is an email from Matthew Spira's Poetry, a newsletter by Matthew Spira.
I cannot be what I am not
nor do or can I fear death
makes a mockery of life.
What am I in this moment?
What I am at this moment
continuous creation of self
informing the infinite me.
All my pasts and futures
converging into the present
my reticulation is the prayer
life fully lived finds salvation.
DREAMS OF CICERO
It would appeal to and flatter
his sense of competitive vanity
if Cicero could know his version
of his era is largely the one
come down as received history.
But could he truly grasp that
all that remains of his Rome
are scattered ruins, a destruction
more profound and complete
then the burning of Carthage?
Scipio the Younger’s tears
the cautionary tale come true.
If we are (and are we?) optimistic
enough to believe there will be
humans in two thousand years
reading probably not these lines
but of our time, looking back
what scattered ruins will they
have to measure our presumption
we were offering forth to posterity
something more than our hubris?
ABOUT MATTHEW SPIRA’S POETRY
My publication contains my poetry and stories. I tend to focus more on people than things, but I write about a wide variety of topics and moods. I am especially interested in the military/veteran experience, (single) parenting, and the bemusement of middle age.