| rubicon_salad | ||
| lycanthrope |
Crossing the Rubicon Casear is mounted and rides up the stream The bells ring backwards, the drums, they are beat. Yet faces of home are there like a dream, on familiar paths and gold fields of wheat, which must fade in the river's churning. In the distance he sees cities gleaming. His eyes close and they are loud with burning. Another world now enters his dreaming. Armor and horses sound striations gory. Stunned silence is brought by implications, sons killing fathers, suffering as glory. He aches like a discontented nation. War and peace sound in the skys changing hue, In one wading now, he can't part the two. |
020515 |