Chasing Cleopatra

There is a river flows eternal, Cutting swathes through sands aflame, Bisecting the ragged shanties, Sweeping tides of ancient glory, Whispering fluidly her name. There are pyramids keeping secrets Of the dead they nurse inside, Concealing the treasure of her heart, Interment by Anubis' thrall, Embalmed and petrified. There are spiritual high priestesses Forcing back the will of fate, And reviving her magnificence, Have restored the foremost goddess, Cleopatra incarnate. There are almond eyes of absinthe That behold all love and pain, That outshine the brightest diamonds, Put to death the seven wonders When they see the earth again. There such grace of composition Stands embodied with desire, That lays waste to mortal concept, Blinds the vision of the dark gods, Bathed in milk and weeping fire. There a pilgrim in a wasteland Stalks the four winds and proceeds, Trails the wake of one most beautiful, Lost in chasing Cleopatra, So entranced he ne'er concedes.