Idea (Fly away from me!)
A flowery poem with stinging nettles at its core.
What the devil is that I see before me?
That flits like a butterfly, and refuses my sight to see.
A Spectre, like so many I've seen? Worse!
A curse!
Idea!
Fly thee away from me!
Inspiration, that I should not wish on my deadliest enemy!
O, Pandora, give me the strength, to avert my gaze, and keep my life at length.
Stillborn desires resurrect, and lay their hands on the doubts I left,
That this is not what is ought to be my way,
To simply work and toil, day by day!
I understand Idea, you will not let me go.
If you wish to do battle, then let it be so!
To the end shall I grapple with thee!
Unto hell's heart, and verily!
O, sweet idea, you will be the death of me.
But what a pleasant death that will be!
About the Creator
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What remains of Her... (And us.)
It’s one thing to think about the future, and another to live it, I think. Should I explain that one? I suppose so. It’s about the year 2056, and the Earth is gone. For Us. It’s still there of course, the requisite 5 million years haven’t passed for the Sun in our Solar System to go supernova and truly swallow the planet whole.
By Keith Tanu4 years ago in Earth
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