What if all was but ash, of a bygone Pompeii

Still needing a fault, to portray a halt

Such clarity in aspic, would hardly dismay

What ever was hidden, in futility’s vault.

"Come to the magnificence, of blue blood indifference"

Come to where bleed, the noblesse oblige

Come to where reality, is considered no more than an inference

Of something deserving, of only degrees.

Come to where thunder, crunches in silence

Come to where pain, knows only to laugh

Come to that place, of sweetest compliance

Come and be strapped, to the Illiad’s mast.

 ~Paul Thomas~

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