“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Hydra-tion
Let that soak in...
it was, of course, he who challenged
Could we rise above
as them who stood on shoulders
of they indiscriminately
stomping on knuckles over the climb
we absorb
traction and take it all in
strides, that makes us full of it.
But somehow it had been forgotten
what was there before we
grew
so we could squeeze every last drop out
and call it New and This
capacity for repetition defined by the
circumference of our pores
and gross weight.
We all were already saturated-
but only she has the greater liquid measure,
and capacity for regeneration.
Painting by Gustave Moreau [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons (1870).
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