strobed minds of empty eyes 

found beneath what was once called a island

To Read the aging band of desecrated mind 

Scrawled in a substrate as a warning 

to raise your face to a futured mirrored view

Of a Short lived life  stored in stone 

preserved beneath flooded temples.

Following triangles off those 

Equalatorial lines of a deserted life 

is never really easily reached even with ladders 

to build a bridge from a start to the middle 

As Titian strides alongside ancients paths 

And around on itself again.

Is that star the finishing line 

or just a phonetic Apple seed we planted.