Terra Dea |
Too long a time it seems since you laid eyes on Earth in the splendor of her naked elegance. Dirt and roots, rot and growth, tremorous movements of crawling, flying, slithering things are as the pristine, crystal works of clocks and music boxes. Wind gives breath to the strange precisionary martinets of chaos who seem to have no knowing of coming or going.
Soil and moss, rotting leaves never seemed so clean as now. Concrete is dirty, defiled, sticky fouled with the monsters of the microbial microcosm.
Reading for the inner treasures while the rest read for recreation.
Don’t know where you walk on the wheel of creation.
Somewhere between unity and annihilation,
Somewhere between plastic and perma-culture,
Somewhere between banquets and the vitamin and cigarette square meal,
Somewhere between nerve-propelled tweakfest and the slow and ambient stirrings of the opium dream.
Somewhere there’s an edge that works,
a workable fix,
a fix that’s workable,
a work that’s fixable,
a fixation with a work.
A knife edge is cradled somewhere between torporous plush boredom and the regimented over- achieving, determined, demented.
“Is anything worth doing?”
Answer with action and you blow the show.
Do nothing and stir yourself crazy.
Can’t sit still when you’re alone.
Caught up in knowing the cost of survival,
yet knowing there’s no way you can allow the sinking into sack- ass mediocrity,
yet knowing that you can never really know.
You can only walk with the mystery.
Something so hidden you want to make known.
Something you own up to, yet she reflects it so fully back to you.
How long since you embraced her?
Fettered and cinched in her concrete, pavement bodice of blackened dirty ribbon, she strains to breathe. She rages; she storms; she quakes.
Tears spring forth in the lament of bygone times of barely remembered tenderness.
Tenderness warmed by the fiercest star. Now its blare, its glare, a reminder that every particle is waiting to fly in every direction.
Now she wanders the void. The homeless one in whom the souls make their home.
How long since you embraced her?
copyright 2006
Adam
Lowis |