“We Will to Live”
We will to live while millenia roam across the boards.
Our stage remembered, drowned in memory becomes a swamp and thence
A wounded star across the bow where builders’ knives repair the fence
And perforate the hitherto unknown. The undisturbed pristine moors’
Natural madness gives but just enough to inhale and to support
The failing pale of flora, fauna, and here and there, perhaps in offence
Placed more for decoration forming little ordre, no defence
But room enough for families and peculiars to the tribe, the core
Of some unlikely future nation’s border war
Or pages in a glossy geographic monograph. For pretence
Of pattern or the need for fillers in poetic license
Some there are of gifted verbal genius with almost nothing to support
Save these, the lessons of the pasts engaged for mass seduction
In a world that has no end, no greater need than pure and simple reproduction.