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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A somber sleep falls upon Saturn, as the Golden Age of Man comes to an end, passing like silver moons' phases to another cycle of time, and the fortunes of both man and of woman, they are paid for in currency of toil and strife, like the coin paid to the ferryman of the River Styx, in which mortality meets finally it's end. His rings orbit no longer in joy for opulence and wealth upon the Terran sphere, as the arrears of humankind causes humanity to pay for the wages of its sin, and the din and misery of war starts slowly to creep forward, as The Sun, before a source of warmth, it blazes forth in oppressive heat, breeding the locusts that come from corruption of matter in rot, as the trials and tribulations of humanity, they now come to be to the gods to be as naught. Oh, how I mourn for Saturn in his mysterious sleep, as somehow, the mystery of how this silver age that has come to pass, it settles upon my brow, and I fear now that this age of silver that just now dawns, that it will recede further to an e'en more corrupted age of bronze, in which humanity shall strive to til the soil with broken back and heavy heart, asking in his soul what has come to pass, why, after a time in bounteous glory, the gods have come to abandon them to sorrowed repast... Copyright © 2015 Robert Matejko
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