You, who have taken God from her forest taken her and clothed her in items of your choosing Jewels and houses she would eschew. Put a gun in her hand put her sons in foreign lands – all In the name of her father. You, who have twisted her words to create the leviathan called modern culture. You, who walk the street undercover of pinstripes and attaché and a business card for proof, and privilege. You, who cannot judge the passing smell oozing (a fragrance?) from the carcass of your dying civilization Yet you judge. Fear. Please do. For someone has sallied the rope Spanning the crevasse between man and the super man. Someone knows that side of the swampy abyss and It’s folly: You, making it yours with every sweep of arm and voice. You, who strive to be occupied with life’s banquet As you jockey for position and invent for convenience determining closeness to your God. Surprise! When the female of the species, (Fear this) with her patterned wings, rises from the swamp and with nothing more than her sense organs drives you back to the craggy edges of your success. It is she (not you) who will enact the inevitable: extinction through natural selection. She worries not. Moving from host to host she will ensure that you and your super-kindred, in attending this banquet, will surely sit and starve. 0.000000 0.000000 Share this:ShareFacebookWhatsAppEmailRedditLike this:Like Loading... Related 1 Comment I always go back to read your post several times…and each time I feel something different! I love this one! Rhonda Sent it from her iPhone. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. Δ Post navigation Previous Previous post: Love for the ForecasterNext Next post: In the Wee Hour of Life
I always go back to read your post several times…and each time I feel something different! I love this one! Rhonda Sent it from her iPhone. Reply
I always go back to read your post several times…and each time I feel something different! I love this one!
Rhonda Sent it from her iPhone.