the people here were a different type

of a different time

they spoke of wondrous things

they talked of the greatness that had been

but also of what could be

of camelot and shangri la

magnificent searches for the holy grail, for the kingdom of prestor john

atlantis and it's submerged marble halls, now lost for ever, save to the fish that swim

there was discourse of traveling the trackless voids

of riding unseen currents thru the cold chasms of space between the stars

in those days, we could smell the poignant smoke of scrolls smoldering in alexandria, but dream of slipping thru black holes

now we await endless, tiresome threads about the violent end of all that is beautiful




oh,what's the use...