Vestigial Soul

In a garden unguarded by seraph or sword
     'neath a moon shining bright as the sun
We danced in the pool of the Fountain of Youth
     as we glorified life with our fun
And blissfully each passing hour ignored
     as we sought more primordial truth.

When it came that we tasted of wisdom and death,
     we innocent, ignorant two
In our anguish abjured we both Garden and Trees
     as we tried to forget what we knew:
The approach of dread Atropos' shears with each breath,
     our congenital, mortal disease.

Yet, in spite of futility, Kohelet's curse,
     and the hopelessness plain in our plight,
Resolved we to stay just as long as we may
     in the beauty of day and of light,
In pursuit of the glory of art and of verse
     as to each of the Muses we pray.

You drew me a picture of worlds that could be,
     of raptures, infernos, and dreams--
And I, in turn, sang you a song I'd conceived
     of that world that is All That It Seems--
A world neither you nor I ever could see,
     but a dream that we'd always believed.

But now, though at last we draw near the abyss,
     though at last we acknowledge the end,
Still we seek that which, though it is empty, is sweet,
     and imagine, and hope, and pretend
That oblivion's near to salvation for bliss
     and that victory's near to defeat;

And this be the spindle that threads out our fate,
     this that endless, ineffable wheel;
And thus what was broken is once more made whole
     and what ere was deceit is made real
As we follow our fathers and friends who await
     each returning vestigial soul.