Time’s Execution

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

History is for fools

Because the past is dead

Religions the myths

That once gave us hope

 

The memory of time

Is an insufficient cause

Full of battles and countries

That no longer matter

 

Those hexameters had meaning

Shouts of Shakespeare

I can till hear him on the streets

Rumble of the marketplace

 

How ignorant, how meek

We inherit so much

Of only so much worth

I want to recall the love

 

Of my ancestors, their great

Romance, but even that

Seems to have been omitted

By the fact that we are here

 

These routines and instruments

Are man’s sly unknown shapes

History is for scholars

While we repeat the species

 

Our knuckles graze across

The borders of all yesterdays.