Rhyme of a Reincarnate

Forgive my love for antique things. But ancient visions light my mind. Imagination spreads strong, spacious wings And soars me backward where I find Myself alive—in other lives behind. I was a troubadour for kings, And at their sumptuous tables, dined. I donned their silks and wore their sapphire rings, And with their courtesans, I wined. Three thousand years ago, soft hands were kind. Contrast it with corrupt “Today.” The Present is a haggard whore, A foetid vampire sucking dreams away. I’ve lived a hundred, better lives before. Their memory’s my golden door.