Saturday, November 5, 2016

Rob Schackne #138, Mousai #3 - Kleiô


Before an open box of books Kleiô sits
Humming, an open book with nothing writ
Upon but two columns down each page
The personal and the extraordinary
Divided by an imperfect world
She starts to sing her perfect song

How secret the historical world
How clear the lines of harmony
The imprint of sound on the passing day
On the cat, the small metre of the body
In the rhythm, of the tall old grasses
Hear the song that is always singing

Not the story of the victorious or the weak
Made by each other, but in one book
Read the futures of the other
By lack of knowledge, confused
But finally redeemed by all of time
Which is only your history in reverse

How you know what will happen
Even as tired soldiers drop and die
Their leaders contemplating retirement
Boys play war games on computers
Arguing their strategies of growing old
Laugh as they move toward death. 


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