What no one will remember
(Part L8)
Lumps and lumps of passion. Aug 20,2013.
Lumps and lumps of passion. Aug 20,2013.
There was home.
Clay closed around
terrestrial things.
There was a time.
When we were burning,
working under the
astronomy of the leaves.
There was a tool
and we planned like kings
some horizon for our blood.
There was house.
A storm made of war
like a word made of hell.
There was a continent.
A march across a broad
month in groups of large
silver stars.
There was a trauma.
Mucous like iron
in the continuous
light of the extinct.
There was a mountain.
An absolute struggle
where almost cosmos.
There was a square.
Where mystery was
a brilliant white arc.
There was a home.
When purpose and space
were known a hundred
years ago.
There was a home.
When water was the only
line of music under
the silence
of the cloud.
Engrossed in the gloss of glassy sea. May 24, 2013
And to know and see and reassert that we ARE machines, we are machines made out of flesh, proteins, water, enzymes and coded molecules; that we understand the word “machine” but cannot grasp the consequences of this mysterious arrangement:
Living, breathing, suffering machines…
If the world has no love
No sweetness nor sorrow
If the days would rain
Like featureless water
Bountiful and boundless
What purpose shall we serve
In this cloud of haze –
In breathing without air
Dreaming without dreams
We find ourselves choiceless
In this flame unlit
With nothing here
Nothing indeed
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