Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Sonnet #123

...end everything I know about the after-

life I learned from living. How the sun
will rise each day regardless; How the matter
is neither created nor destroyed; One
cosmos always moving, always using
all the bits, discarded bits, where black holes
pull them in and someday the exploding
Parts will scatter all the ashes of the soul
How giant trees collapse but life won't stop
It just renews, where fungal growth and insect
eating insects pull the life all out of rot
Until the soil is rich and saplings rise from it
I see how all the tribes, we build upon what's built
Until the bits of souls, our human mudsill silt 

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