What do you know of me?
Enough, and nothing.
And what will you do with me?
Consume you, whole.
But I can swim, and like it.
I can wait.
How far do you go?
How long have you got?
You are beautiful and strong.
I care not.
I know this of you, and yet I care still.
Summer oaks tremble
to music she summons with
delicate fingers.
You stood longest, yet at last flew too,
and so I scorn you most.
For still we might have won, us two,
just as we did before –
against all odds – when you were true.
But now in chains we sit and wait,
like in the classic film:
the judgements false; the hour too late;
and Romans standing at the gate.
No tents, no chariots, no swords, no hope;
no future but the rope.
For you no Spartacus will stand,
and as I rise, I know.
******************
Romantic idealism and business do not mix. I agreed to leave the business I founded and built yesterday after 14 years, more than 100 people employed and many happy memories. It feels like the ending of ‘Spartacus’, except Tony Curtis is remaining seated, happy to become a slave once more.
poetry diary 