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Every Remaining Last God
Covered by cloud the out-of-sight tops of soaring towers,
Buckling under their own weight, beginning to topple from
Those airy heights;
The gaping breach - the once impregnable outer wall!
The inner keep ablaze with greedy, insatiable flame;
A thunderous cacophony of crashing cymbals and blaring
Horns;
Wide-eyed lurching panic desperately grasping at the fleeting
Moment...
And the whole World immersed into madness.
Hauled above the line of the high-water mark
The bleached, gnarly boards of the depleted Longships;
And when hurriedly stripped bare of brine-drenched hempen
Rope and torn white sail.
The golden sands burning with all the brilliant radiance of a
Million candle lights;
And below a shattered sky...an enormous, disintergrating Sun
Collapsing into a hissing sea!
And now you come to tell me that Agamemnon is dead.
Dead? Is that how you say it: "Great Agamemnon is...dead."
So, it is done then. But is one death nearly enough for the
Cruel and needless sacrifice of gentle Iphigenia?
Every remaining last God to be brought here, together;
This dreadful thing!
For never can such be given up to us again.
Copyright ©
John Fleming
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