Haunted by the fall of Alexandria And the loss of the thoughts its works would inspire We must pull these threads from the fire
Bombarded by Rhythm from cosmic horizons Where sacrificial altars Call to the dead
Behold Aeons of systematic Decay The reformation of all archaic
We are the privileged few Who stand For an instant aware Of our moment in time
Neither Ozymandias nor Tithonus Could accept their impermanence Intellectually and corporally We are all doomed eventually
In this space At this time How should we live? What sort of people should we be?
With the benefit of experience History, literature, philosophy, And no transcendent being's authority. With understanding and self-mastery We can engage our lives For the benefit of humanity
Behold Aeons of systematic Change The reformation of all archaic
Bombarded by Rhythm from cosmic horizons Where abandoned altars Are transformed anew