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Canto I: Chock-full
©2019, Olan L. Smith
Gaze as circles descend until you're chock-full; they fold;
They expand up and down and throughout your soul.
They're the harbingers of the forest come upon us.
Climb the tree to the very top and welcome them,
As they overwhelm each tree, each branch, each leaf.
The end is come, and you are found deficient in all
Aspects expected since creation. Toss all your
Warriors into the bins of dust, return to the dirt in
Your creators' hands, before you fall between the
The fingers. So much clay, so little essence,
Little consideration of the whole that is you; was you,
Will be you. Recognize your cohesion is of two realms,
Physical and spiritual. After all this time of being human
You still believe you are individuals. You're oneness
Not separate; not independent of a wholeness that is self.
You travel the path to oblivion, heeding not the gods of your
Past, heeding only yourself, and the greed you've
Created. You take and consume until all that is left is the
Dust of greed, and the dust of your bones. You think not
Of your future soul, you deny it, while spouting your faith in
Darkness of greed; a dust storm of your own creation.
Your parched lips will wonder why in death, why life.
A.N. The photo is of a painting I did titled, "Cathouse 4."
YOU ARE READING
Epic Poem: Poets of Life, Part II
PoetryThis is part two of my epic poem, "Poets life." It is a introspection of the poet and life and death on this planet.
