“I know the pieces fit ’cause I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering. Fundamental differing.”
Draw the futures of generations past
into the shining utopia that oft’ swells
against the turning tide of grace
and projects the naked cosmos
into indifferent haste.
Strung, like the darling buds
that scamper and scarper
into those lost translucent dreams,
draped into forgiving lines, the
Nazca promises of streaming
consent into the crumbling doors
of convent and covenant, rapier
of sanguine cries, “oh, the fallen hive”.
Striving for nothing more than to
generate futures erased before
the ruined gods of Man. Simple tasks
in each own hand creates
the destiny of the grave,
while around and around,
floating in our heads is static execution,
claiming and reclaiming death.
That we were the earthly pest, wrapped
in self-indulgent obliviousness, knowing
we are the bearers of our bread,
of our last supper and solution. Instead,
calling our kingdom to the ground,
the rubble paradise, lost in sweet emotion.
Flawed against our abyss and light,
the lifeless cohort leading
self-inflicted cataclysmic blight.
And I watched it all fall away.
Enfolded in the shade of a world
that turned too many times, and circled
infinity, a cosmic death glide, bounded
by the vulturistic committee of Men.
And I watched it all fall away
I watched it all fall away
watched it all fall away
it all fall away
all fall away
Poem © Phen Weston 2016