Partir a Tribord

There is a balance between science and intuition;
only the myths of priests can disturb that account,
can sadly arrest the bloom of human consciousness.
As we look deeply with telescopes into the cosmos

or inward to the radio-waves of cranial thought,
the No Smoking sign of religion holds humanity back.
There is no Paradise Lost, only that yet not attained.
Silencers muffle, as if the skyes were empty,

the mind subordinate to some Proper Name.
If we are to Live, we must go there. Out where
the nebulae birth new stars, in there,
where the id recklessly whispers, Good-bye.




Poetry by Brian Oarr
Read 480 times
Written on 2012-03-08 at 05:09

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