Without Love, This Happens

Consciousness

Is too much.

We are not

Primitive enough.

 

Instinctive sense

Of smallness and place

In something bigger

Is drowned in ego.

 

We are just enlightened

Enough to see our folly

But unable to escape it

Except through death,

Which we pursue wildly,

Whilst trying to pretend the opposite.

 

We cannot afford to admit

That self-destruction is the only path

Which makes any sense

Whilst gorging on annihilation

Chemical, consumerist, religious or military.

 

If death is the last great adventure,

Why do we live?

More primitive species know

But are unaware of knowing.

We are aware of not knowing

And it will destroy us all.

 

And then, I look up

From my reverie,

See you smile,

Your eyes turn these words

To vapour

And everything is easy and fine.

 

You wordlessly take my hand,

Lead me into the garden.

I am whole.

I am home.

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One Response to “Without Love, This Happens”

  1. scotthastiepoet Says:

    There is much wisdom in this and a lovely soullfulness tooo, Graeme – I will be back for more… With Best Wishes Scott http://www.scotthastie.com

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