B. Sven Telander - Mistake

In the carcass of the circus
there lay an unburned page
appointing and anointing
another mage upon a stage.

Desperate for a respite on
trestle made of bone, a tyro
with a gyro was spinning
a begin, wrestling with the
shadows amongst the ghosts
of stone, lying like a liar
piling hidden sins;

running from the fate
that grips us all too soon,
exit planet's nectar for
seasons past the moon.

B. Sven Telander

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mistake-90/