- Oct 8, 2001
- 182
- 0
ABOUT LIFE, ABOUT EARTH
Some believe life is but dust
blowing in winds of chance,
‘til death stills the winds.
Here, in this silent stillness;
despair pervades thought,
creates a world of zombies
with rock hearts and ice minds.
And now, even angels
no longer set foot in this place
for who would frequent a world
where death is the final legacy
and the masters choose it this way?
Do the rhythms of the sea;
it’s tides and flux and streams
tell us there is more?
No longer: not the sea, why would it?
No, not the sea, but whales!
Ahhh, the whales who still sing
their strange songs within the waters
and halfway across the globe
their brethren hear and respond.
But technology rips the song apart:
a technology of instant gratification;
of instant death: the whale dies first
then the worshiper of alien thought,
the maker of death – the man
also dies, silenced by his own noise.
No good standing upon the shore
today: the song has died and yes,
earth life has become nothing
but a speck of cosmic dust.
Some believe life is but dust
blowing in winds of chance,
‘til death stills the winds.
Here, in this silent stillness;
despair pervades thought,
creates a world of zombies
with rock hearts and ice minds.
And now, even angels
no longer set foot in this place
for who would frequent a world
where death is the final legacy
and the masters choose it this way?
Do the rhythms of the sea;
it’s tides and flux and streams
tell us there is more?
No longer: not the sea, why would it?
No, not the sea, but whales!
Ahhh, the whales who still sing
their strange songs within the waters
and halfway across the globe
their brethren hear and respond.
But technology rips the song apart:
a technology of instant gratification;
of instant death: the whale dies first
then the worshiper of alien thought,
the maker of death – the man
also dies, silenced by his own noise.
No good standing upon the shore
today: the song has died and yes,
earth life has become nothing
but a speck of cosmic dust.