“So Insignificant”

“So Insignificant”


So insignificant the sovereignty of seeds that, placed, submerged

In fluid dreams are nurtured by little more than nothing
Anyone would care to name, a coming
Out from mere suspicion or the niggling urge
To hesitate as all desires surge at first but merge
In reticence. To settle an affair becomes an offering
To yesterday’s ordeal in fire, its smoke behaves as incense smothering
Inspirations of the day,  achieving neither strength nor courage,
Languishing in vested hints of tomorrow’s living light. Was that a sound
  Or simple dim and dusty cymbal lightly struck as in a pill
That’s swallowed quickly if at all? Not so much is eaten,
Drunk, or taken in with less bouquet than what fermented wheat and
Barley can sustain of genius and inheritance falling to the ground
And never mentioned as the sower hears the cry of seeds he’s so lovingly played
to spill as did so many ancient Onans
In this world. As many souls who taste the sweetest fruit
Share little else but rind or skins with others, They savour
Choice selected vines and favour
No one with the first or second nor the last intoxicating drop in moot
Consumption not at all a proper celebration as they revel greatly,
Conspicuously in the spoilage of the nectar and the mead
In hot pursuit of nothing in particular―nor desire nor pleasure―beads
Of lapis lazuli and bloodstone dripping, luxuries of sweat and garlands lately
Slippings, strewn about in caverns hewn of pure prevarication
Spun 0f the silks from multiples of  passions, spiders in a feast of ferial days
To raise the spirits of no man wiser in the ways
Of neither this world nor the Next. These, the invocations
Of the Lord of Wastes are sung as if to dare the gods to say
They’re gods, or God, Himself to act in some more ordinary way.

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