12-15-2011, 01:57 PM
My body is a hick's basement:
dark and lined with bones,
implements of death gleaming
as light catches them
through a lonely window.
All of us scurry and feed,
tramping down the same worn roads,
bathing in a single wind.
Same air, same life.
The earth rotates around the sun,
beetles scurry to their beds,
a single leaf is trodden on.
dark and lined with bones,
implements of death gleaming
as light catches them
through a lonely window.
All of us scurry and feed,
tramping down the same worn roads,
bathing in a single wind.
Same air, same life.
The earth rotates around the sun,
beetles scurry to their beds,
a single leaf is trodden on.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe