Empty Glory
Lost Echoes: Nekroí Theoí's Poignant Reflections on Fading Potential
Lyrics
I have lost my touch
I have lost my skill or ability
And my grasp of the arcane has suffered
My understanding of mysterious or hidden knowledge has declined
The chords of Orion go unstrung
The cosmic melodies are no longer played
Neither do the harps of Armageddon sing
The impending disaster is not heralded by heavenly music
I am weeping in a coffin of standing water
I am immersed in a state of despair
The algae has grown to replace my skin
A metaphorical transformation where algae has replaced my essence
To shed means so much more than it once did
The act of shedding has gained deeper significance
I stand terrified of what's lost and worse
I am frightened by both what has been lost and the potential for greater loss
What I cannot gain
I am unable to acquire what I desire
Time has marched forward while I slept in a bed of opportunity
While I was oblivious, time progressed, and opportunities passed by
Ghost writers dictate my passionate vociferating
Others write on my behalf, expressing passion for me
Editors stop my breath before it can carve any truth out of our cacophony
Editors prevent me from expressing my true thoughts in our chaotic noise
An effective castration
An effective emasculation or rendering powerless
A synthetic growth
A growth that is artificial or manufactured
There is a propagation of identity but nothing is truly created
There is a proliferation of identities, but nothing truly innovative is created
And nothing worthy of timelessness is born
Nothing of enduring value is brought into existence
So I weep and whittle at the scroll
I mourn and carve away at my life's story
And the page mocks me
The written record mocks me, revealing what I could have become
Telling me tales of what I thought I would be
The page narrates stories of my unrealized potential
Spent potential and vast worlds gone to waste
Potential and vast possibilities have been squandered
I weep in a bed of stagnant tears
I am immersed in a bed of unchanging sorrow
Surrounded by monuments to my voice
Surrounded by monuments that stand as reminders of my influence
And my words are nowhere to be found
My words are absent, lost or unheard
Treading a path of second-hand glory
I walk a path where I experience success through others
Vicariously living through myself
Living vicariously through my past self
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