". . . macte nova virtute, puer, sic itur ad astra . . ."
---Vergil, The Aeneid, IX
At Pharsalus, hale and hearty Caesar
had many victims to conquer, slay, and destroy:
and you, Poet, still at Mantua,
and still a beautiful, if awkward, boy
lamented the young men's lives so wasted
by Caesar, always provoking a battle;
the screams of their dying ultimately silenced
by the sound of his death wish's rattle.
The thought of that overwhelms most people:
Roman politics plays the ruse to ply the ploy.
Erotic love is a truth of its own
that you and your lover, when naked, enjoy.
Since the two of you have been together,
the power of your juvenile verse has increased---
as if nurtured and sustained by the sweetness
that to, and upon, you, he has released.
Starward
[*/+/^]
Denouncing violence and the
Denouncing violence and the ravenous hunger for power, the Poet represents everything beautiful left in the world. In sharp contrast to the unthinkable carnage, you created a blissful sanctum where "Erotic love is a truth of its own."
The lyrical structure is the perfect foil for the horror beyond as it vibrates with the nurturing sweetness within. The conclusion blossoms with the type of love no army can defeat. Beautifully explosive. Superb.
Thank you very much. Your
Thank you very much. Your acceptance---considering the kind of Poet you are---completes and validates my tribute to Vergil (which also allowed me to take a good swing at Julius Caesar). I apologize for my delay in reply; not intentional, and no disrespect or lack of gratitude intended.
J-9th94
No apology needed. I know
No apology needed. I know what you're dealing with right now and no response is expected. Only that you know your work is read and appreciated. The swing at Julius was a nice bonus.