19:47
A rolling stone, a mass of moss,a mystery to be perceived and not unveiled;
how far we've gone, yet go we must,
till now and, as of yet, no more have we prevailed:
The crawling, biting, hissing, sprawling
yawning, yearning, burning with desire
to inspire a flash of inextinguishable fire,
a funeral pyre to dead and lost - the most -
the frost descending, night impending,
dark, obscure, albeit - not pretending
separation of the living from the dead,
the nation of what's said, undone, the land
you under-stand or roam above
the city built by night - not in a day,
millenia shall pass to teach us to obey
and die the meager death of mere subsistance;
What you are is your existance, why insist on system's pistons,
churning souls that pass into the distance of the ever-dying past,
amassed for further reference that never comes to pass,
at least, at last, not once, not in a billion months?
No moon, no sun shall ever care for those who never dare
to recognize them there, as free as breath,
as palpitations of impatience for a brighter day;
That is the in/et\ernal birth -
to populate the planet, not the name, but body - of the Earth.