It’s like a prison here,
Capricci etched by Piranesi
Vast intricate labyrinth,
Every expansively sighted avenue and square
Leads onto a oppressively narrow blind alley,
The burgeoning promise of live beginnings
Turning into an inexorable dead ends,
Away from the press of crowds, abandonment,
A series of solitary cells conterminous with the world.
This place has the shimmer of an illusory construct Though rumour has it exists in actuality The tales told suggest some impossible fable Realised through masses of stone and marble In certain lights disappearing, rendered invisible Then when the mists disperse, dissipate, revealing, Floating above the void, Sinking into the abyss; The Capital of Impermanence.
cakeordeathsite 