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.
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