09-15-2014, 01:47 AM
Whatever else we claim as ours, inside the bag that we call us,
we are more than the hydrogen that suns sublime in nuclear flame.
That simple trick of gravity combined with heat, spontaneous
and without god, makes molten mass that but for us would have no name.
Yet here we are, named Dick and Tom, agglomerates of fusion fire
held tight together for some time, which in itself is not defined.
At best we say that we pass through, like current through a copper wire;
except, of course, electron flow is by that very path confined.
Not so the spirit loosed from bonds; valency, like carbon digits,
grasps and grips what has no soul but lets slips through the human essence.
Moved by this strange inoculant, we live and love and fuss and fidget;
time deforms the hands that hook us, dangling over fate’s senescence.
Old age it seems is an illusion, atomic parts remain as new;
the force that binds our bits together will not hold us hale and well.
Who made this plan, this rum re-cycle…building us with such poor glue?
Ah, you say, that must be god…and if not He then who in hell?
Tectak
2014
we are more than the hydrogen that suns sublime in nuclear flame.
That simple trick of gravity combined with heat, spontaneous
and without god, makes molten mass that but for us would have no name.
Yet here we are, named Dick and Tom, agglomerates of fusion fire
held tight together for some time, which in itself is not defined.
At best we say that we pass through, like current through a copper wire;
except, of course, electron flow is by that very path confined.
Not so the spirit loosed from bonds; valency, like carbon digits,
grasps and grips what has no soul but lets slips through the human essence.
Moved by this strange inoculant, we live and love and fuss and fidget;
time deforms the hands that hook us, dangling over fate’s senescence.
Old age it seems is an illusion, atomic parts remain as new;
the force that binds our bits together will not hold us hale and well.
Who made this plan, this rum re-cycle…building us with such poor glue?
Ah, you say, that must be god…and if not He then who in hell?
Tectak
2014