Feb 2020
We are the rise and fall of cities
So carelessly demanded
Sheathed by night
Gilded with stars that lend us
The illusion that our world
Is still whole and beautiful
What a cyclical facade
This seems to be
All faded tones of rose and gold
From our first light
To the fall of the last empire
We are but wounds
So carelessly demanded
Sheathed by night
Gilded with stars that lend us
The illusion that our world
Is still whole and beautiful
What a cyclical facade
This seems to be
All faded tones of rose and gold
From our first light
To the fall of the last empire
We are but wounds
If I end up using this, and you, my teacher whose last name starts with a K, are reading this, then yes! I did actually write this. It's inspired by Borges and Rilke (especially his poem "Landscape"; pg. 109 in the book you lent me). This poem actually means something too.
