Remember, You Too Are Mortal - Aaron Sarich

most worshipful he lies, bellowing his voice through the thick grass

unnoticed by many for the timelessness of his thoughts dismay.

As the elder one lay, drinking the usquebaugh,

looking down only entailed with the glass of newborn life,

the storm once caused by Varuna.

For such is the cost of immortality, no man is whole, no man is free.

For the young one once had known of the calamity that brung him hither,

the breath of stormy winds, not jovial, overgrew the child’s mind,

only to awaken him.

Stonewall! The old man rings his bell, for the course of westward seethes its day.

The vestige of past memory’s, lost within time, averring their unseen fortitude,

to only see that time was forever lost.

Hitherto, these browses forbid the growth of this new soul,

besieged in the remnants of that which can never grow.

Oh, for the sake of itself, it was Antigone who saw this man,

wrapped in his esteemed clothes, drinking his beloved drink.

For his father was an oxman, who breathed the smell of ipsum,

From face to face, the wretched called the name of the youngest.

All had been lost in this life, god foreseen, through these fatalistic truths.

He rangled.

This man would not age, like the giants that roamed long ago,

between these days, the young took its place.

Only in lost time.