Justinian, last roman

Tyrian Purple

Passing through the old city gate
A relic that reminds of greater times
Dwarfed by ugliness and short-sightedness
Not one tree, column or veranda.

The monochrome mundaneness
Model dwellings for a new slave batch
The Vandals call it art and progression
All art these days is propaganda.

There are quickening power flows
Furtively converging to form empire
One dynasty must be pitched against another
And ultimately become subsumed.

The last Roman looks towards the west
So it begins - renovatio imperii
For if not beauty is restored
Then cause is lost and men are doomed.

In robes dyed with Tyrian Purple
A vast army will pass through the gate
And in the wake a legion of builders
And sailors from Rome's mighty fleets.

Whitewashed to reflect the midday sun
The defiled relics will shine once more
A blue sky horizon for the playful child
That skips along the tree-lined streets.

© Severn Dwyer. 2014

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