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Saturday, October 29th 2005

11:59 PM

The Illusion of Morning...(ART - 2 min)

The Illusion of Morning

 

 

 

The sun broke the dawn, in a pageant of light,

Ra had arrived, to do battle with night.

A great warrior-god, clad in garments that glow.

As herdsmen bow their heads, in the fields far below. 

 

Ra's eyes finally fix on the object of his sight,

On a mountain, dying nightly, is a once-god's timeless plight.

The bringer of morning, nocks an arrow, and takes aim.

A bolt of pure sunshine, hits the vulture and bursts in flame.

 

With a nod from his head, Ra casts a sad look and then

In a wild burst of speed, over bowed heads of men.

His radiance shatters visions, and dark dreams that are real.

A dark monk, shields his eyes on a high black bastille.

 

An arrow strikes the wizard, in his round little butt,

He turns, shakes his fist, the message clear-cut.

Ra roars in laughter, as his steeds cross the sky,

And approaches a small glen, and hears his lover's outcry..

 

This object of affection, through the eons of time,

A goddess of great beauty, sung in chorus and rhyme.

Now Ra's no Adonis, Aphrodite cares not,

For it's a little known fact that she likes her men hot.

 

In the glistening like a rainbow, she arrives at his side,

For she's come a long way and will not be denied.

Ra then ties the reins, holds his love in embrace,

The heavens are a witness, that he contiues his chase.

 

 

 

Her hands bear a huge scroll, direct from Olympus,

With a seal, blazened brightly, from my own nemesis.

Another tale unfolds, as each play their game,

Two gods from the heavens, each filled with love's flame.

 

 I nod at them slowly, which is always returned,

These missions from Olympus always leave me concerned.

You see, Ra is a friend, and does take my place,

So I can spend a few days with a lover in Thrace.

 

But for now I view the world, in my eye a slight tear,

And I rumble the mountains to remind them I'm here.

Such a start to the new day, the sky on my shoulder,

I take up my vigil, far from happy, and older.

 

The next time there's thunder, raise your glass with great cheer,

For though you can't see me, I might be quite near.

You know that my name is Atlas, and I shelter mankind,

If your future looks hopeless, would a trade be unkind?

 

 

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