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A Poem by DesEsseintes

My traitorous eyes celebrate her
The rapidity of her movements tire them
Forcing their nightly surrender to a sleep filled with her
Quit while you�re ahead were my wise last words

The ancient world moves to the whims of progress
Ancient man lashes a fury on the back of it
Forcing it forwards
A will to progress if you will
He dreams of beauty
Grasps greedily
Caressing its very vitality and chaining it to himself with bonds of love
Securing for himself a future
He walks in the dark without fear
His way is lit
I am the ancient man
Awaiting beauty with the tap of a foot

All that follows is surely death to me.