Finality Of Crushing Death
© Surazeus
2018 09 13
I wonder why Byron was so obsessed
with the finality of crushing death,
as if his hungry mind could never rest
while he sang his horror with every breath.
He ached for love with every girl he met,
and drank wine from goblet skull of his friend,
scribbling lines of verse while his cheeks were wet
with tears of sorrow for the final end.
Declaring endless passion of his heart
for people he loved wherever he went,
Byron mapped feelings in poetic chart
that revealed how deep his kind heart was rent.
Wherever he roamed across the wild world,
from misty Scotland to hot Istanbul,
Byron sought where Spirit Dragon lies curled
to prove how he is not the royal fool.
Though he seduced princesses and farm maids,
wooing them with versatile magic spells,
only one daughter sprang from amorous raids
who designed computer program code shells.
Since Byron walked signless roads of the Earth
two hundred years ago in search for love,
we have built vast cities that suffer dearth
of romantic hope for light from above.
From shadow of the misty heath he looms
to sing, "She walks in beauty, like the night
of starry skies," but lingers in weird gloom
to weep over her grave in stark moonlight.
Where Byron goes now I cannot perceive
so I follow him to the roaring sea
where we kneel shocked over Shelley and grieve
how death hurls us into eternity.
© Surazeus
2018 09 13
I wonder why Byron was so obsessed
with the finality of crushing death,
as if his hungry mind could never rest
while he sang his horror with every breath.
He ached for love with every girl he met,
and drank wine from goblet skull of his friend,
scribbling lines of verse while his cheeks were wet
with tears of sorrow for the final end.
Declaring endless passion of his heart
for people he loved wherever he went,
Byron mapped feelings in poetic chart
that revealed how deep his kind heart was rent.
Wherever he roamed across the wild world,
from misty Scotland to hot Istanbul,
Byron sought where Spirit Dragon lies curled
to prove how he is not the royal fool.
Though he seduced princesses and farm maids,
wooing them with versatile magic spells,
only one daughter sprang from amorous raids
who designed computer program code shells.
Since Byron walked signless roads of the Earth
two hundred years ago in search for love,
we have built vast cities that suffer dearth
of romantic hope for light from above.
From shadow of the misty heath he looms
to sing, "She walks in beauty, like the night
of starry skies," but lingers in weird gloom
to weep over her grave in stark moonlight.
Where Byron goes now I cannot perceive
so I follow him to the roaring sea
where we kneel shocked over Shelley and grieve
how death hurls us into eternity.
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