The Musings of Alencia Lysander

"All this will never be again."  Presumption That it is, that it will Anything, change being possible, That there is something to lose. There is nothing to lose. As for the menagerie and its disaster, Spitted or shot, cornered, quartered, roasted, Along with the imagined volumes (Despite the fact that if a lion could speak We wouldn't understand him, Which was probably not Intended to be A theological remark) You can't expect an ape have the last word on himself. If I may speculate for a minute, Either it is all entirely mundane, And things continue with no indication of their significance, Or truth, beauty, and the good exist, But in such a way as to be eternal and almost impenetrable Considerable but not such as to be risked By the doom of us who consider them.

1.  The Monument Always once -- here once sat (always) -- here is the monument.  The moment could have been embellished with light and adorned by the form of gods.  Desire quickens it until it has meaning, and on that spot, in what is now empty as space and still as time, they erected the memory.  That there would be a memory is their legacy's erection. 2. All But The desert is a collection of sand and hills of sand.  It offers space at the behest of an unknown benefactor to a nameless god.  The wind is a voice, still singing the old song -- but breathlessly.  It exhales and it sighs, it hums and soughs.  Though it is a spirit -- though it is a memory -- repetition without rebirth, idleness but not recreation, echo without voice, sound save for thought. 3. A Tableau of Emotions The desert is a tableau of emotions felt then passing.  They have drifted and accumulate.  In the sun they are made as pure as time. 4. ...