A Kind of Truth
How terrible and perfect
the shark and the spider.
How forever unknown,
much more than we
who try to explain them are.
Weigh the salt, weigh the water,
weigh the dust. Put it in a bucket
with a hank of hair,
add a soupcon of moonlit fantasy
pour it over new mown hay.
Beings are beginning to sprout
under our scalps.
Mindful beings
who do not pluck bones out of the air
and call it truth.
Stop denying the obvious.
We are not alien Gods, we are
sharks and spiders.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment