We've attached ourselves to every facet
of this fleshy existence, for certain we've
subjected our souls (unjustly) to the
trappings of this mindless life -
our tormented souls searching stars to
harvest hope from the heavens for a
spiritual sustenance, our sensual
sustenance never thoroughly sated by
the palpable pleasures procured from
this temporal plane, this transient plane.
Our darkest desires reaching unknowable
depths as we dig and dig (and dig) those
holes ever deeper -
the dust piling on
the dirt piling up
the dirt plunging down
the dust piling on -
as we attempt to meet an uncertain fate
clambering out, clawing out (with) never
the firmest foothold, never the firmest
hand -
stunned starving souls seeking sustenance;
seven times a thousand million mired in
the mud, stranded in a chasm straining
eyes; spreading hands toward a shapeless
starless sky -
seven times a thousand million stuck in
the sand; grounded soul marooned in
bone, flesh and skin ever seeking
sustenance (with) never the firmest
foothold, never the firmest hand.
😏
©dead_poet
D