Wondrous event
This time of creation
As it seeks it's way
Into existence, into light.
How fatal and fragile.
I have hope yet.
But life cannot nourish
On hope alone
Because of it could
Wouldn't we all be
Well fed?
Conception is
Something we mold.
We can shape it,
If only for a short time.
But it must learn to exist
On its own,
If it is to survive.
Or struggle against the tide of non being.
As we all struggle
To be a child of creation.
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An experiment in poetic brevity
I'll fill each tiny, beating heart With memories of dust and rain Which once complete reach a point Of no return, where they contain An essence, strand of DNA Each more potent with each...
I don't deny a creator, no one can ever know where we came from, I deny religion and the multitude of gods our fears have become.
Curious, furious, curious curiosity, always following me. Is it the Western Dream or the Eastern Promise. I make no promises and rarely dream, these days.
Walking through airport departures I deconstructed, lonely as a cloud, wondering 'what is a cloud anyway?' a union of oxygen and hydrogen, a transient arrangement of familial water...
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