Unseeded

A nation dies when its ideas become slogans nothing is deeply planted or cultivated just notions to be scattered around as exposed hayseeds that fly directionless. When a state is oppressed the collective impulse is to oppress another country. Wars are never fought over an ideal. In the staggered march of time dead men become the enemy. Minds die they become buried in the deaf flesh, become as thin as the bones of extinct songbirds. The dead consider themselves the finest examples of a new reality, an existence that is the loudest shout in the widest open mouth. Dead letters, dead opinions, dead ends travel in circles together until the land forgets its roots becomes a basement for the sky a place that is ingrown like a toenail pushed into the white tissue of all such unkept deathbeds.