Capricornus Poem by Barry Van Asten

A model of pure reason,
He bounds to the glory of the day,
Awake, with a galaxy of imagination
That corrupts and conquers in his way.
Upon his noble brow - distinction,
Creases with time where horizons play;
Immortal in the dawn's expansion
That looks on the crimson waste, to pray

As he struts aflame through every nation -
Vile, the tongue that speaks his name.
It is but one to him: religion -
They are but mirrors of the same.
And in his abysmal trail of devotion
He can compel each heart to shame;
Extreme upon extreme abstraction,
Curled by the blasphemy of his frame.

His torso, a war-engine of destruction,
Monstrous in his will to pursue;
His brain: a trigger of perception
Sees the cosmos streaming through
To stride the elememts of perfection
And sing, as lover to lover, will do;
Where the wide excellerated passions
Lies weeping in the glistening dew.

Bored by the limits of cruel creation
He broods on a world, unable to forget
The grind of the axle to every motion;
The sacred scratchings of the prophet.
Thick and rounded, this dimension
Strains to express the course that's set
Through the lower regions of comprehension,
And the perfected beauty of woman. Yet,

His eyes are flames of satisfaction,
Bristling with strength and vibrant with lust,
To redeem the madness of evolution
And crush a universe into dust.