The Price of Sustenance

I can hear the silence.
It beats upon my skull like a torrential rain.
I can’t hear the voices.
The lips move constantly with nothing left to say.

There are no ideas left,
we harvested them all.
The knowledge tree is rotten,
it’s about to fall.
The belly full,
the mind a finely desolate hall.
The heart in retrograde
turning a ghastly pall.

Eating dust and feeling synthesized.
Concentrate on hearing what is in the eyes.
What’s dripping off the tongue has all be compromised.
Sustenance was never taught or televised.

Drawing a breath
might have been easier
when the days were shorter
and the work was harder.
When the lips said more
and the body went farther,
to reap the land
and drink the water.
When the still night air
was full of love and laughter.
Before we connected
over our disasters.
When a look and a touch
made the heart beat faster
and each choice we made
had an effect after.
We might have feared the dark,
but our light shone a little brighter
and the mystery still gripped us,
held us all a little tighter.

When we let go,
we did the impossible.
At what cost?
Maybe we’ll never know.

HG – 2015

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