Crack the mantle of the earth
and drag all the continents
back together
into one.
The ultimate forced unity.
I look out
over chasms of space and time,
vast immeasurable gulfs,
and seek to understand you,
but I cannot.
This world has riven
mother from daughter,
father from son,
lover from lover.
Split the bloodlines
like a tree
branches up towards the sky.
A million leaves,
on a million trees
that will never come into contact,
until they all meet,
dead and brittle,
swept into the gutters,
and along doorways
by the catastrophe of life.
How can I get you to hear me?
I have drunk down
every whiskey bottle,
and once empty,
penned ten thousand notes to you,
and rolled them up,
and stuffed them inside.
Sealed them up,
and tossed them in the ocean,
until the coastline
is just a shimmering sea
of bobbing glass.
Still, I hear nothing.
Soon, all those bottles
get picked up by bottle pickers
and taken in for a nickel,
the notes discarded.
I have hacked the code,
imprinted my message
into a billion nodes,
asking if there is anyone
that can hear me.
The AI doesn’t even reply,
it just flags my message
and shadow bans me,
leaving me to scream
into this vast, digital abyss,
where the only echo that returns
asks me if I know about crypto.
I’m going to have to break something.
Either the Earth,
or the Heavens,
or an idea.
I have spent time enough
seeing the bottle messages of others
float ashore,
and I hear them,
even with no way
of returning a message in kind.
I know you’re out there,
and I’m listening.
I’ll keep sending messages
until I am dead,
or until I am heard;
so, until then,
maybe check your spam folder.
HG – 2022
