The reincarnation of Robert Proud!: A poem

You know strands are tied to strands, even puppets

are on longer chains than actually apparent! Is there a

wilfulness in seeming ignorance, based on subconsciousness?

Is all that unexplored profundity, a deeper recess?

Is any coming of age a repetition of backdrops, shrouded in

the mystique of remembrances, not yet awares, but yet, a

substantial nostalgia of old wines in new bottles? Metempsychosis

is a story not oft-told but relives like thorns in our DNA. Scientists have

dismissed RNA as dispensable, but do they (RNA) carry the

nervouus membranes of reincarnations? Did we discover the

frontiers of space before we even endeavoured into our own personal

individual enigmas? And is circumstance an evidence of past genres,

like a river rarely flowing off course? A history prone to dramatise

itself again and again. So, the evil of the past keeps committing

the same crime in new lifetimes; and time scripts and directs

the same auteurship with little detours; such that none of the

wickedness is assuaged regardless of the jurisdictional legacy

of the age! We call ourselves an age led by judicial intensity

and deliverance, but is it lackadaisical, lethargic to immemoriality

that it cannot mitigate the injustice? If I would delve headlong into memories

and let faith be the raconteur? As if it needs to be said that a society

lacking spiritual structure would deign to call me an insanity.

Time is not brief, but it is encapsulated in repetitions. A seeming distant

past joust can become an eternal relived journey. I know I have characters from past

theatres singing their encores. I am not bewildered, and this is not mere

conjecture! There is nothing as sterile as forgiveness in repeated bloodshed.

My sinews of virtue come cascading like a landslide, and I can get bolder

as I grow older. So, there you are, what has been foreclosed so often

does not deserve any imposed closure! And I am not yet so amiable if you all can

think you all have the authority to inhibit my being effable. And I am not indiscriminate!

Remember (circa Zero BC/ AD) Saint Paul, Ananus ben Ananus! Remember (crica 1300 AD) Philip the Fair, Pope Clement the V (!); my Beulah cannot accommodate my murderers! Period!