Poetry

The Fall, 20 (264.)

Oh, Elysium,
what wonders do you hold?
Are there secrets
within your hills and knolls?
To walk your verdant paths,
aye, ’tis the rub
of paradise.
The old days in Arcadia,
when compared to this,
they just don’t suffice.
We fervently hope
that the afterlife is forever –
Hermes, send not an invitation
to the after-afterlife,
for answer it,
I shall never.
Just in case there isn’t even
an afterlife,
I shall survey these earthly lands
to find all that is Elysian.

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