The Bacchant

October 7, 2010
By Anonymous

The denizen reaches for the sun
Large long branches; Powerful mirth
warm shining liquid surrounds.

Leaves crumpled about
Branches wavering, dancing.
Crying an umbrageous song with his limbs sill reaching.

Another drink of sunshine.
Unaware, forfeited, credulous, but focused.

Here comes the Sun; Here comes the fire.
His empire of leaves,
Burns into inconsequence.

Gone with the sun; One bye one,
Burnt crisp to dust
Petrified, alone, the sun turns dark.

Intoxicating fumes in deserted ruins
with glasses emptied, remains a ghostly shell

Domain blurring;
His surreal dreams continue.
The bacchant weeps, as his branches fall.

Radiance, indulgence, consumed, gone.
With no drink to imbibe, the night falls foreve


The author's comments:
After reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, I received a strange empty feeling. The main character's attempts at reformation of the self was utterly ignored and stomped upon by the fellow characters in the book. Even after his utter devotion and love to Lucie, she still did not honor him in a way she should have. This poem is based upon his debauchery and degeneration as a man prior to his self rehabilitation through his love through Lucie. Sydney Carton was like a tree, thriving and tall, but seeing the sun so much that eventually, the heat from the sun caused it to burn. This conceit only marks my visual and figurative representation of Sydney Carton and his life.

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