01: Glorious Stones of Troy and Avalon

(In light of "Shine, Perishing Republic" by Robinson Jeffers)

As this globe of icy mass continues its journey - through and
   down a snow laden path of highly paved frost - it is a
   consuming entity of individuals from which I wonder where
   and who the first few flakes were that made this pact.

All in well counted and exacting time it will reach its bottom
   river bed, gloriously silencing itself in melting by the hand of
   its own primordial constituents.

Weep and fear not, unnamed kings, for the table of nobles leaves
   always room for a next, fast minded visionary to see through
   the means and endless end.

Need only a drop of water; the sands of institution be shaped
   once more, oh glorious stones of Troy and Avalon.

And when the glee of the young dawns once again I will leave my
   reservations on the porch as an old rifle of protection.

For the beach castles are already en route to cities. They are
   still just . . . child's toys in my eyes; temperaments of
   adolescence.

There will be little need for reeducation as the trade from
   tyrant to nun would all the same be oppressive, lest I presume
   the definition of a better life for all.

Rather . . . let's play together in the structure we've so proudly
   assembled and enjoy fruits for the sake of fruits' sake.

My musing observations are content enough, for now, that
   miserable understanding is always a more colorful portrait
   than blind bliss.