Horizons

Haunted by the fall of alexandria
And the loss of the thoughts its works would inspire
We must pull these threads from the fire

Bombarded by
Rhythm from cosmic horizons
Where sacrificial altars
Call to the dead

Behold aeons of systematic decay
The reformation of all archaic

We are the privileged few
Who stand for an instant aware
Of our moment in time

Neither ozymandias nor tithonus
Could accept their impermanence
Intellectually and corporally
We are all doomed eventually

In this space
At this time
How should we live?
What sort of people should we be?

With the benefit of experience
History, literature, philosophy
And no transcendent being's authority
With understanding and self-mastery
We can engage our lives
For the benefit of humanity

Behold aeons of systematic change
The reformation of all archaic

Bombarded by
Rhythm from cosmic horizons
Where abandoned altars
Are transformed anew