“Mark the Man’s Credentials”

“Mark the Man’s Credentials”

Mark the man’s credentials.  As he speaks
He pacifies his scars, he enunciates the blinding facts
Supporting nothing more than air to ratify his acts
With his own light or the weight of even less; just so.  The wordsmith cheats;
He unfolds himself with his tongue. Fallow generation’s fetal weeds
Immortalised crimson in velum, scribbled  pages—monographs in blocks
Of sentences and paragraphs—just as clods riot in the coda of the rocks
As Mammon surely justifies its primal place and finds the end it seeks.                   If in the lightning bolt there are not seeds enough
To bribe the soil and all its tenants, surely sands witness pleasures to be
Had amongst us beyond all toil or rhetoric or land-locked living fees
Demands alike;  just so.  Creation sows its gems, indiscriminate crystals known
To find the ends they seek and life beholds its crown within the living state
Surviving yet another mystery that no man can fathom nor orchestrate.

 
 

…Photograph above by Ehimaya Oza

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