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The Cost Of Folly's Blight
As noiseless dummies fall away,
into the mists of Gorgons tendons,
the silent passions drift and sway
under gleaming turning churning engines.
Sparkling bright, the crystons fleeting,
in all their nebulous starward force,
while here below the endless treating
of man's vast visions and his last wars.
Taking out and breaking in,
round about and back again,
consuming all, the grim contend,
and time is running out the end.
The heaving flowing mass dissolves,
blowing through a planet's frenzied flight,
and here, in quiet harrows, firm resolve
to never more return for friends to fight.
The radiant globe distends in morning breezes,
following on the lines of last retreat.
The field's exultant splendor blacks and freezes,
blasting forth the story's solemn beat.
The borrowed names of countless heads are singing,
forth and back to shrivel all delight,
and in the heavens haze the host are winging
on to call to term the cost of folly's blight.
Maharimi Karotlovitch, 1976
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