The soil in action.

What is real is the soil beneath our feet , a whole universe
in itself ,composed
of age-old pulverized bones and fresh corpses. The bitter truth
is that it pulses as the great connector of lives, the source and
destination of all. The soil is earth's barefoot and when we walk
barefoot, two barefoot touch each other with love. Above ground,

clad are we all in the dust of forms, wound with reed-seed peat, rice
husk and forest left over. The sea is the cradle we all rocked out
of but though water has invented us, dirt is our last resort. Wheat
and bread, derived from the soil, through their conjoined roots, have
woven our conjoined consciousness that helps to dignify and glorify
our thoughts, character and lives. Having severed ourselves from

every other goal, our unique dream is to find out how does this breathing
arise and how does the beating heart exist with thousand of wrangling
desires and perceive the wind that stirs the dust. The rest is like kids
who frolick, in earliest leaf-time ,with coltish ecstasy until it gets dark
for these few short days, to get back to the unknown soil. The gardener
of dirt thereafter, uses our frame as a mould for the shape of future dust.

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 84 times
Written on 2022-02-21 at 03:28

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Wow! Well that's one way of looking at it!
On the face of it who could disagree? And yet can retain a hopeful and wholly different frame of mind for the ending.