A dystopian mess
Of blood and flesh
And cryptic clandestine narcissistic
Slavered out over freshly stale pages
By the Ancient Whims and Desires
Which take the Bold and the New as bedfellows
That though we see ages pass in our reflections
In us mirrors see only reflections of ages past
It will – and we won’t – last
Our ‘wisdom’, our ‘wit’ and our ‘will’ belie us
‘Nullum est iam dictum quod non dictum est prius.’*
*Nothing is said that hasn’t been said before.
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