To Matter
Non-existence is a physical pain.
The human form as transcendental mess
twisted into itself.
The eternal Mobius of living.
If the world could speak
it would shout
the cacophony of Fibonacci's trees
then fall silent
in the weight of a seedling
bursting earth.
Everyone wants to be someone
to someone,
to belong amongst the chaos
of genus and species
and matter.
2 comments:
This is beautiful. And I understand it, as opposed to last weeks', which I had some trouble with.:)
Nice plays on words.
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