The Mind of Shelley

 

 

In the quiet shadow of the past,  

Where thoughts collide and reason sows,  

A young mind wrestles, stark and fast,  

With heavy truths that ebb and flow.  

 

Godwin’s chains held tight the world,  

Necessity, a grim parade, 

But Shelley’s heart itself unfurled,  

whispered change, and doubt decayed.  

 

He sought the light of pure ideals,  

Anarchic dreams that lifted high,  

To chase the truth that surely heals,  

Like murmurs from the endless sky.  

 

In Hymn to Beauty, ink and breath  

Converge on forms of hidden grace,  

Where shadows of a certain death  

Give way to something we can face.  

 

Yet ideals falter, wield their sword,  

In Prometheus hope resounds,  

A fleeting spark that’s never bored,  

A rebel’s heart where wisdom bounds.  

 

And through it all, the truth does gleam,  

Synthesis in word and thought,

The dance of faith, a fragile dream,  

Yet - it is reason that he sought.  

 

But turning pages, time unfolds,

In Hellas faced with ruin’s core,  

The once bright ideal, tarnished gold,  

A bitter taste, a closing door.

 

What quality resides within, 

The mind of Shelley, fierce and bold?  

To sketch the battle, truth and sin,  

A tale of hearts where love took hold.  

  

In ages past and futures wide,  

The tapestry of thinking reign -   

Romantic flames, the fire we bide,  

In echo chambers, love and pain.  

 

For here we stand, with echoes clear,  

The conflicts rise, they touch our skin,  

In voices low, the past we hear,  

As Shelley dreamed, we dare to win.  

 

We try to learn from thoughts once spun,  

In webs of words and time’s embrace,  

In search of beauty, now begun,  

Let passion drive us to that place.  

 

Where hearts and minds with arms extended,  

Reach for the stars, the boundless sky,  

In freedom’s name, forever splendid,  

Ideals take flight and never die.