A History of the World(Part I)

Pre-Origin


All is not lost, and those who are seated,
In the glistening scales of the goldfish,
That swims the Earth, and separates the void,
From Water, are not bits of dry paint,
Peeling from the Chaos.

To be or not to be? That is the question.
But to “be”, is to writhe through “forever”,
And the “forever” seeks not the light.
The rocks and their decendants, that evolved into blood,
Shall “forever” rise and fall, and dust to dust, thou shall witness.
Theirs, will be a spiraling road to a burnt sun.

And if it “be not”, and if it “be not forever”,
Then the first grain to have blown into the hourglass,
Must be found.
The Origin must dance to an Origin.




The Age of the Dinosaur


The tempest that brings the waves to a blood curdling fever,
The reverberation of Osiris’ foghorn to Death,
(Death, ofcourse, for those who confront survival in reluctance)
The endless, night-infested tunnel, guiding in stony silence, to
Cold blood.
But Life, that through the pulsating Red, lives,
Rejevenates graveyards through more Life.
Grass and meat, do not separate,
And together, the “Balance” drinks on the water,
That the Goldfish swims.



The Meteor


Flashes. Reds and burning white. Heat and fume.
The eyeball of the Dinosaur reflects another eye,
That scorches itself. And sees The End.
Running. Cries of anguish into an abyss. Echoes.
The element that pierces through the “Balance”,
For a greater “Balance”. Or if it is the “be”, than through
The interweaving of the Dice of Chance.


When the flame has burned itself out,
And the flakes of white erosion begin to soothe and settle,
Frail rivulets of smoke, run through the air.
Wisps rise, and a slow wind mourns.
The sun sets into an ocean, that once faced a familiar horizon.

Traces of Life that the grains in the hourglass,
Collect, and will one day,
Reveal the eroded steps on the veiled staircase,
To other grains, that blow in Time.


(To be continued...)