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.