Tuesday, July 07, 2009
The platonist
Poor poor platonist
The world is slipping away
The perfect manner for a person no longer applies
So no longer are there perfect people
As once there were in your youth
Poor poor platonist
The older the get
The more upset you become day by day
The world is no longer yours
The role models - ashes in the air
Oh my dear platonist
Ideals have served you so well
They are the inner courtyard to your villa
The stones crumble away
The courtyard decays
Can you, platonist, be happy?
Can you face change?
For there lies the key to your happiness
But what do I know?
I, who have never recognised
That perfect manner.
fon @ 3:46 PM link to post * *