It has almost been a week since NaPoWriMo was begun and I already feel worn out. However, I am not going to let that stop me from writing more and seeing this month through to the end. So, without further ado, here is today’s poem!
Spinning
The mantle of saviour he wrote atop his head
Blessed himself with lordship and the right to rule
Baptised himself in heroism
Majority collapsed in adoration and sickly promise
Of divine hope seemingly fulfilled
They kiss the barren earth he is to mould
Feel the radiance of hope almost realised
Too few recall the before, or think of ancient revolution
Wisdom becomes scarce when optimism absorbs
Yet how is this to be when our hero proclaims
That he and his blood are just that: blood
Flesh and bone breathing, breeding all as we
No hint of the Godly whisper in the flesh
And this family are nothing in the abstract
Empires may change hands and faces but never hearts
Not with haste enough to be seen
By any others than those cloistered folks
Whose sole reason for breath slumbers in historic text
Stasis is what is honoured by the present
Though time becomes in itself but a wheel
Which revolves in infinity to our credit
Though the wheel had been halted by the before
This man, our idol of liberation, hath freed
The spokes that turn
We thought it a glory to know not restraints
But this revolution has come to turn
And its passage is ending
We are to fall
That’s all folks.
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