03-18-2014, 11:03 PM
Evolution straights the line that sight scribes curved upon the eye;
though sinister becomes the right we see horizons level drawn.
Far suns from history illume us, a trillion miles away they lie,
then caught in orbs of human humour; a photon dies, a star is born.
Evolution drops the pin that breaks the silence, turns the ear;
an infant's cry, a thundered spark or sweetest music in a sine.
Tall trees fall in silent places, distant yet by theory near.
Chaos flutters, strikes the anvil; stirrups stir, old bells chime.
Evolution scents the streets but dogs no longer wolf the air;
atavistic traits fade, choking. Stench of man convolves the flow.
Winds that once could keep no secrets, telling tales of what and where,
swirl curled in concrete conurbations; stagnant, waiting. Where to blow?
Evolution grows the man to morph and model each new trait ;
anthropomorphic genes hang from us, pinned like medals to our chest.
Pride, at once sin and salvation, guides us from our godless fate;
sweet paradox of pointless progress will one day stall and fall to rest.
From "A long time coming" first written in 2000.
tectak
though sinister becomes the right we see horizons level drawn.
Far suns from history illume us, a trillion miles away they lie,
then caught in orbs of human humour; a photon dies, a star is born.
Evolution drops the pin that breaks the silence, turns the ear;
an infant's cry, a thundered spark or sweetest music in a sine.
Tall trees fall in silent places, distant yet by theory near.
Chaos flutters, strikes the anvil; stirrups stir, old bells chime.
Evolution scents the streets but dogs no longer wolf the air;
atavistic traits fade, choking. Stench of man convolves the flow.
Winds that once could keep no secrets, telling tales of what and where,
swirl curled in concrete conurbations; stagnant, waiting. Where to blow?
Evolution grows the man to morph and model each new trait ;
anthropomorphic genes hang from us, pinned like medals to our chest.
Pride, at once sin and salvation, guides us from our godless fate;
sweet paradox of pointless progress will one day stall and fall to rest.
From "A long time coming" first written in 2000.
tectak