Horizons

Haunted by the fall of alexandria

And the loss of the thoughts its works would inspire

We must pull these threads from the fire

Bombarded by

Rhythm from cosmic horizons

Where sacrificial altars

Call to the dead

Behold aeons of systematic decay

The reformation of all archaic

We are the privileged few

Who stand for an instant aware

Of our moment in time

Neither ozymandias nor tithonus

Could accept their impermanence

Intellectually and corporally

We are all doomed eventually

In this space

At this time

How should we live?

What sort of people should we be?

With the benefit of experience

History, literature, philosophy

And no transcendent being's authority

With understanding and self-mastery

We can engage our lives

For the benefit of humanity

Behold aeons of systematic change

The reformation of all archaic

Bombarded by

Rhythm from cosmic horizons

Where abandoned altars

Are transformed anew