The Architect

By: Thomas Senior
Competition Year: 2012
Votes (0) | Comments (0)
< Previous     Next >    
They make measurements, through a compass of long irresolution,
A square set and solid.
Time breeds from the seeds of what men sow,
And roots fat and ravenous rise with impetus.
Yet method mirrors a fruitful ambition,

A harboured want in a crystal sphere, unleashed
By the prerogative of passion. The whips scar
And mould these roots of belonging;

It has become unstoppable.

The chord cut, the roots risen to rise,
Now solar bound in sacred heights.
The piercing silence

Herald of mammon, the distance lost in haste recedes.
Nothing is absolute
You have become the timeless precursor,
The Infinite constant, everything is known, your memory;
Mighty and genetic, a foundationless fool.
Share this poem:
Register/Login to comment