Napoleon and Me

One cannot know what he was thinking,
Stuck, imprisoned, staring out at endless
Miles of empty sea. Did he retain a
Bitter pride? “They have me now, these
Lesser men, whose minds aren't large
Enough to hold the world that they
Seized from me. Instead, they rule
Their little pieces, putting back, as best
They can, the wretchedness that I
Erased. They won't last long. Too
Much has changed. I'll die. That's
Fine. I had my day. They'll die in
Turn, and their days, too, will pass,
The difference being that, while what
I made will be rebuilt, what they are
Making will be lost forever, like a
Stone I toss into this empty sea.”

And how does this apply to me?
It doesn't. I've nothing to show
For sixty feckless years of life.
I made no world, have no pride.
I'm stuck, imprisoned, staring out,
Another of those lesser men, at
Fields of stubble reminiscent of
His miles of sea.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 70 times
Written on 2016-02-26 at 18:48

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