"Grief #1 (Cont'd)"
A glade beckons? It is the "Fen of the Civilized"
Tranquil it is where the ferns and make grow.
An ecosystem beauteous, balanced, delectable?
It sits atop a dung heap. But take a closer
look... Why it's not a mound o'feces at all!
Urbanity teems inside its busy hiveness.
Lok at the wars being fought, and over what?
So terribly rote, so blandly manufactured.
War? Is that the best these miscreants
can come up with? To keep this whole
pile of self-defined crap going? Oh, but it does seem
to keep the glade beautiful. Yet there's
the smell of plastic about it all. Now that
I look closer, the artificial texture of fronds
dwell close to what was mistakenly taken
for moss, but is just a green chemical slime.
All of it arranged so tastefully to present
"gorgemousness." And now let's catapult
you, dreamer, away from this infernalé
to something more tangible. Take a look
at the Ruined City, your true parayso.
Perhaps it seems just boarded-up buildings
and free-floating refuse, but everywhere
you turn, my sleeping groom-bride, nature
reclaims this fever swamp. Behold your future
changeling! Liberated from indenture
you trudge beneath the ground, your earth
Mother-Father, longing to fly above it
and you can. But it's standing in that grace
(paradox's fine alias) to comprehend deep
mystery of the subway cars shuttling
you between stations of your cross.
You must immerse yourself in the waves
of undulating soil as if Poseidon himself
was surfer king of dirt rather than ocean.
Your choice is more clear dearest one:
Choose your ruination consciously
rather than succumbing to the mere miscues
of the misguidedly leisured. That ant
heap will soon see the revolt of the lower
berths who will break the chains barring
their egress shut, forcing they way upwards
only to discover that the Titanic
ship of maquinacultura Carried itself
an iceberg too far, and without the supports
to ensure significant survival. Nay sleeper
as you waken, remember to flee into ruin
itself, and let Boreas and Notus learn you
their firm, loving, hard lessons and drape
you with their breaths, in recognition
that only through acceptance of what IS
can your human species move through all of it.
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