Modernity’s Epitaph

— an artistic interlude —


Western promise, ever onward
Hark, she rides, and hark, she slays
Bringing empires to their knees
O’er deserts, plains, and seas
She heralds now the darkest days

Rome has fallen long ago
As all before it fell as well
But never to the likes of these
O’er deserts, plains, and seas
All who’ve heard don’t live to tell

Her crimes can never be her own
In crimes of church and crimes of state
Those opposed, their ends did meet
In France their heads did line the street
As in some distant Caliphate

But so civilized she rides at night
Surpassing all with tempting gifts
To villages both near and far
First by horse and then by car
By her hand the cycle shifts

Degeneration takes a hold
Rending metals, crumbling stones
The church and state divorced for life
A man the subject of his wife
And sovereigns dead on useless thrones

The Lady called Modernity
In Paris modeled filthy gowns
A Savoyard of noble stock
Dared criticize her blood-soaked frock
But deaf and mute were all the towns

The Lady called Modernity
In Iberia sang her song
A priest denounced her voice as sin
But all the towns were taken in
And all were dashed before too long

The Lady called Modernity
In the ashes of Rome made art
A philosopher saw her hidden treason
But his more than esoteric reason
Was lost on men from towns apart

The Lady called Modernity
In Bucharest did her worst
A captain marshaled every man
To kill this witch and end her plan
And so she slew the captain first

And now she sits triumphant
Her inbred sons are all erased
They served their purpose in their day
So great a hero she could play
Reich and Union laid to waste

Alas, the weeks they come and go
The towns are loyal, quiet, meek
She makes up foes to battle with
But all becomes derivative
The Lady’s growing weak

The joints begin to calcify
The muscles start to atrophy
And in her weakness, she becomes
Madder still than her inbred sons
A growing vortex, entropy

Her grip on power now turns brittle
Fingers clutched around a sword
And all the fine technology
Can never stave off destiny
Or those faithful to the Lord

Men begin to speak once more
Riding the tiger that knows no pause
Strong and valiant heroes rise
Ascetics start to criticize
From every town they join the cause

She thrashes as they slash and tear
At all the powers she has built
They rip from her those robes profane
Fetal earrings, harlot’s chain
They show in daylight all her guilt

A cry of victory fills the air
Celebration fills the street
The Golden Age returned at last
The smiles of heroes from the past
Tradition placed on rightful seat

Now this battle seems long ago
Its victors but a memory
But the Son has returned to take his bride
So with jubilation we reside
In the arms of His theocracy

Then as we walk to paradise
I tug His sleeve and point below
There lies a shriveled, ugly thing
It twitches still but cannot sing
Halfway buried in sand and snow

The Son, He said these words to me
“Do not weep for the father of lies
Behind her face he lies within
For he is her and she is him
Cannot you see past his disguise?

Cannot you know this simple truth?
He’ll appear just as he needs to be
A seducing song or freedom’s whore
A jackboot kicking down the door
And what lies there is called Kali

But don’t look back, now all is right
You survived the horrors of that age
Vanquished is that toxic class
Its servants strewn like broken glass
None survive my Father’s rage”

We rose until she was out of sight
Into clouds and air went we
Forgetting painful memories
O’er deserts, plains, and seas
The Lady called Modernity
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