The Metaphysical Antique Poem by Julia Luber

And time is an action of incidence procured to the future through eternity.
With poets circling round the sun jousting 'bout immortality, instead of
immorality. A tandem sense of twinship escorting the future into the past,
a mock up of a dreaming reality extracting to reality what will make it last.
And somehow the mind finds contemplative reasoning in there, some part
of life's philosophical seasoning, my dear. And the sun rises glowing proud
with its burning heat making sounds scream too red and too loud. And the
moon copies what it can of the sun, stealing its light, twinning its shape,
somehow laughing overhead as if it is simply a harmless pun. Their fighting
is so astral and wild. Forming the marble into a bathroom well tiled. The
structure of performance and the structure of light, shouting and fighting,
like making love through the night. And some engage this duplicity by acts
of immortality. And some engage this duplicity by acts of immorality. And some
engage this reckless behavior as some kind of ultimate saviour, where all
this commotion and chaos, somehow becomes one. And no one wonders
if actually the moon is inside the sun-playing hide and seek; making of its
outrageous strength something shy and meek. Telling when the day is done.
Commanding that the find shalt come after the devoted seek. And time
comes round again, turning this metaphysical stage simply into an antique.