Lord
Byron’s Marking Stone
Upon Seeing the Temple of Poseidon,
Souion, Greece
Cold
the stone
that bears the scars
Initials carved
so blatantly
For all the world
was not to know
the burning question
Where was he?
Lost in
thought
I stand impeached
for where am I
but lost amidst
life’s columns?
Stood I
there on
hallowed ground
warm yet the
breath of scholars
Hailed
faint my
hand but for the
libertine, an ancient
bird took flight with
me encumbered.
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