something seeming visceral
or,
pitiful,
depends on who asked and
answers, 
stoic in certain standards,
unabashed and
blaspheming 
for others.

oh, empty empires only
mean
so much, 
so, what?

whether weathering withers
ambition,
or conviction arrived
rotten within,
some steaming stem or
cornerstone
all memory abandoned,
yet,
habit insisting continued 
existence,
raised hands, all meaningless in
resistance,
and, yet,
again, the steps
delayed
yet, still abiding by
journey inspired
destinations,
continuity contrived by
resolve,
even when appearing vacant,
un-stalled,
to acquire today what yesterday
deprived,
and that vicious and ever enchanting
tomorrow,
the king of fools seeks
such prize.