110 The Defeat of Poetry

The length of time is much too short to tell,
Barbaric rhyme is much too coarse a form,
To beauty so divine, mere words are hell,
The cage of passing time, a horrid norm.
The arrogant alone would now attempt
To carve in lasting stone the tale so loft,
To speak in word what beauty I have dreamt,
To kill a bird so lovely and so soft.
This tale above the riches of the earth,
Is full of love, yet never known in slight,
I mourn to never tell of greatest worth,
I rage and loudly yell my loss of sight!
No ear can hear, no word can close describe,
The softest tear does fall for broken rhyme.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 4, 2006