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I’m the Only One on This Plane Still Awake
There were hearts in his watery eyes as he walked through the sands of Arabia admiring a bluish sky. The lack of any atoms or molecules breathing nearby comforted him knowing he had the world to himself. Walking through the rotting scattered bodies now falling deeper into the sand he remembered how they broke into particles and scattered through the wind. A strange kind of overcast sky emerged showing the sun brightly. The brilliance of the mind had transferred to the surrounding reality.
I discovered the statue at the top of the sixty steps has sixty slight movements in response to losing it’s light. This is the rule of the universe when something has had the light removed it returns to nature which is confined within and set free unwillingly it creates inanimate objects to contain the physics of freedom. We live in an idea constructed by naively animated hands. Kind of out of touch and unreliable but the more the sky turns grey and the more the sun shines through these anomalies juxtapose soft and lethargic grand illusions of magnificent wonder.
This poem not only
This poem not only describes a landscape, but it inhabits a metaphysical condition. It seems to ask: what happens when the world is emptied of life, filled with echoes of intellect, and ruled by a physics that remembers what we forget? and overarching insight is that we live in an idea constructed by naively animated hands, feels both mystical and damning. There’s existential weariness behind that observation, something Beckett-like, even childlike: the world built carelessly by makers unsure of their own blueprint. Yet even in its unreliable nature, it offers “magnificent wonder.”
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver