In vain...

A torchlight procession. 

A search party for what's lost.

Screaming their names in a forest:

Meaning, Purpose, and Control.


The screams are primal

And tainted with despair,

For there's no talisman to rival

The booted march of time,

No sign compellingly apotropaic

To make a dent in history's mosaic. 

◄ Mnemosyne

Stuck On the Inhale ►


Holden Moncrieff

Fri 2nd Apr 2021 00:39

Thank you, Philipos 😊

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Thu 1st Apr 2021 17:48

A dent in history's mosaic, great line.

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