Follow Your Bliss

Walking out to see the land
I wonder how it began.
The sun burns magnesium blacken souls
Brittle leaves dry scaly cold.
Atoms move slowly taking toll
Bitter with absent knowledge
Being hordes forever old.
 
Perceptions touch and electric nodes
Broken, crumbling, abductive fear.
Hume churning blackened holes
Kant with Paine at Nietsche’s glare
My, my, what to bear!
 
What does it matter if we are here?
Spiders weave their noble webs.
Birds sing and craft their little beds.
Clearly they are playing another game instead.
 
 
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About Logan

Logan lives in Arkansas
This entry was posted in Ideology, Language, Literature, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Follow Your Bliss

  1. I love this poem! Great imagery and unique relations between subjects. Inspiration for my own literary blog.

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