Man's Nature

To cut stone with teeth
Is this not the same
As harvesting foresty dreams?

The rust that pools
The silty stillness
Is not this where fantasy boons?

Watching the paint chip
The bricks underneath
Giving way to the noon day sun

Is this not the same
The very pattern
That leaves take in turn as peat and soil?

Pole to pole it swims
Back and forth rhythm
Undulating like the great sea

Is this not the same
The very same blood
That pulses and pops in our veins?

If not, my mistake
I have lived too long
Among the tools of man's nature

Perhaps in due time
I might see error
For now, let me be enamoured
--
7.6.09