Empty Glory - Nekroí Theoí

I have lost my touch

And my grasp of the arcane has suffered

The chords of Orion go unstrung

Neither do the harps of Armageddon sing

I am weeping in a coffin of standing water

The algae has grown to replace my skin

To shed means so much more than it once did

I stand terrified of what’s lost and worse

What I cannot gain

Time has marched forward while I slept in a bed of opportunity

Ghost writers dictate my passionate vociferating

Editors stop my breath before it can carve any truth out of our cacophony

An effective castration

A synthetic growth

There is a propagation of identity but nothing is truly created

And nothing worthy of timelessness is born

So I weep and whittle at the scroll

And the page mocks me

Telling me tales of what I thought I would be

Spent potential and vast worlds gone to waste

I weep in a bed of stagnant tears

Surrounded by monuments to my voice

And my words are nowhere to be found

Treading a path of second-hand glory

Vicariously living through myself