“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Abundance
We mind rarified
elementary considerations such as
helium and hope that just
stream out the o-zone.
While we worry about coal gluttons
and electric vampires,
the signal still comes
in crystal glints,
colors are just
extraneous.
The most resourceful
were generous
making love-
concurrently, we are
interfering.
Simultaneously
sucked in
shiny silicon i's.
Unwound and seriously
needing respooling.
Image credit Hugo Gerhard Ströhl [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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