Exiled in the love of an evolving world


Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Ania-479072594

10

Searching my heart for its true joy
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am not weary of time, though

It moves too quickly, and words and people
Drown out my own sorrow, this world
Deserves more than my self-interest
The salty sweetness of pleasure grows old
But helping others, that peace never ends

I found the small moments of empathy
In my days, the best, the cherishing of others
A more luminous goal than self-satisfaction

And now I am caught by the suffering of others
Not in a bad way, but in a collective-realism
That I too, had it easier than others
That I too, was born more fortunate
And thus to serve others may be the only way
For me to ever understand humanity.

global connectivity


32

it’s survival here, nothing new
lungs knotted by thirst
sunheat in our heart, starving to belong

it’s corrupt the way
the social feeds are telepathic
last chance for freedom
not likely, when water goes on the stock-markets

I’m pinned by this world
like as the love for my criminal child
the kind of wound that

is never quite urgent enough to heal
but sticks around like deformity
“heal the world”, there are too many
bodies you say to feed the planet

it’s survival down here, at the ends
stomach growling to be someone
heart’s pitter-patter against the gloom

our fragility was really contagious
the world learned how
to suffer together, it was a kind
of progress, to realize we all belonged

to the same economy, a doomed currency
where the sun was thrown, raised and lowered
for the number of years we had left

before some tipping point of our anarchy
until we have to depart, to say goodbye
we make do, with teaspoons and testimony
with words from vague saints who were cripples

we learned to see, a bit of ourselves
in everyone who suffered, in how they fought.

art courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Global-Warming-86554791

MORE THAN DUST


39

Remember that, we are dust
Not arrogant like cold stone
Our revelations are social

And our conceits are for our blood
Heritage, prosperity and the like –
In dust, which suns have kissed

Unaware of reckless consequence
With floods to bury landscapes
And Golden Time to renew it all

Remember that, we are dust or dew
Not eternal devouring mind
But form, atoms, molecules

Grown up from crude designs
Remember that, we are fragments
Of a larger entity, collective, humanity

To think that we are separate
Has led to more than one ruined city.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Picnic-451051253