Microcosms

November 11, 2016

face-in-mirror

In this strange thing we call today
Are all the ages that have gone
Since beauty with her mystic sway
Bid chaos flee before the dawn.

In this strange thing we hold so dear,
This flesh that crumbles into dust,
Are souls of idiot and seer,
The dead years’ godliness and lust

Edgar Daniel Kramer

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