Follies of egotistical youth we cannot deny.
Caustic brutality of our lost childhood, and
the rapture of time, leaves the lucid alabaster icon
on the seasons of life.
We forage through the summer topaz,
of our orthodox lives, as if in a garden
of knowledge, the juniper decorates our lives
with paisley and xenial.
Winter solstice comes at the end of our youth.
Morbid neurosis vacillates the quicksilver minds,
replaced by hedonistic greed. Eventually,
the zeitgeist is reborn within the urban mind.
Honorable mention
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