Last voice of the organics

i

There is a river around
Me of love, a writing of fire
A slab of jade on my back
A testament to the love

Of what we do, not why we do it
It’s like God working through
Us, or a snowstorm in August

ii

Or the circular days finding
A year of extraordinary fantasy
That’s art, and that’s also life
Relationships, mutual influences
The energy behind a book

The process of alphabets
Converting on a brain
Unifying incoherent symbols

iii

A language of creation
How birds and stars can meet
And how creatures evolve
There is a river of sound
It’s the narrative of all stories

Of the very act of story-telling
It’s the inheritance of millions
Of years of effort, to grow

And to understand truly
What it means to be human
And now, it’s all changing.