Meaningful

and dark and lovely,
and always menacing
to the sense of Self
so small,
in comparison –
cultivated by years
of p-r-a-c-t-i-c-e,
of existing merely –
or merely existing? –
in the here, the NOW,theNEAR,
and

the far.

RoILED – so tu\r/bi/d –
and announcing your presence
with passion, with FEROCITY –
as i imagine i might do
one day:
THUNDERING,
raining
/d/
o
\w\
n
up^on
the heads
of those who would [|[|oppose.

bringing `terror and {comfort}
and purpose.

trumpeting / HIGH \

 

Above;

bringing Life,
and asking for ∅
but our attention.

how could we not look
when you darken the
skies, and DEAFEN
WITH the *clap* *clap* *clap*
of effervescent mists colliding,
tearing a-part
the very [structure] of the air
we ~breathe~?
How could we notice

and not feel small
(temporary)?

 

By Benjamin A. Wallsten

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