The majestic days of Czars and Sultans with their immaculate royalty
and those of Barons and Khans brimming with stainless primacy
have long since gone.
All their embellished repositories of capital, jewelry and gallant armies stand looted, ravaged and plundered.
The struggling proletariat of those times with their humdrum lives, rife with strife have also bitten the dust
expired, forgotten, crumbled
since days beyond recall.
Now we, the successors and heirlooms live on with kindred joys and glooms
as communities, creeds and nationalities
recklessly defending close-held foxy illusions of defunct oneness or mythical deities.
The more tolerant among us even feel dignity in misplaced, romantic nationalism(s) and mostly off-the-mark, drifting democracies.
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But this time or that summate a few more gimmicks or subtract, all we have gifted ourselves are some arbitrary lines on the map
slashing the earth to pieces then claiming its wiggly, volcanic geographies as slices of ever-dodging Elysium enshrined in fragile master-bluffs of precarious, cut-throat politics.