Come now, rather, come and see, <br />See, when time avails - <br />Dust devil trails in Martian sands, <br />Rails across the Amazon, till <br />Wounds of Byzantine - <br />Sophoclean tragedy, <br />Luddite rebels, war machines - <br />Isaiah’s seraph and Constantine. <br /> <br />And now, this automation, <br />Prodigious child of innovation - <br />Marveled at first activation, <br />Until the Matrix screen. <br /> <br />I simply die, but you, <br />You perish, as things of beauty often do - <br /> <br />Go now, rather, go ascend, and <br />Rise, when winds prevail. <br />Go beg some praises from your master - <br />Return like bad mail, to my arms, <br />Bound, my love, like a thrift shop overdraft - <br />Fail to nurse these shrapnel scars, <br />Torso-etchings, lines of Mars, till <br />Wounds of Byzantine. <br /> <br />*From the book: Vapours of Promise, ©2004 - ISBN 1-59526-352-7<br /><br />Kelly Vinal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wounds-of-byzantine/
