Agathon

History is light we cannot see
pouring gaily into far space
to tell a tale of us to those
who command the tools
to collect our illuminations
within a vast cauldron
and suspend it
over a star’s nuclear fire
stir in mind, a pinch of fever and sense
into the photonic brew
that does toil
and indeed does trouble
as around the combustion
they squat and bicker
fighting for the ladle
heaving out great brilliant draughts
they slug it back and down
to taste time
teeth clack and break
tongues cluck and blister
lips crack and bleed
as our toxins of eons bygone
madden the giants of galactic expanses
into murderous frenzied action
for it has been said
that not even the gods
can change the past
but maybe they might
if outraged enough
defy physics and charge down
the scintillating waves of our millennia
faster than theory allows
snuffing what was before it is

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