what if conscience ran out
like quicksilver over the collective mental landscape
pooling in depressed areas
a concentrated burden of matter
on those already weighed down
imagine an enouromous sane sheet gossamer silk stretched taut like space time
curved round each of us
each individual ponderous mass
fabric strained under the weight of a formless worry
under pretend power taken on as talisman
pulling any passing detrius into orbit
into relentless, crushing responsibility
under this force all is concentrated into the hard and impermeable
heavy for it's weight, small
dense enough to rend a gentle cradle such as ours
our fragile reality ripped ragged
black holes where all care falls out
conscience drains from this world
taking care with it
and we are left with the careless
YOU ARE READING
Magpies of Meaning
PoetryA collection of poems like treasured trinkets gathered in a nest.
