A Troubled Refrain

These red rocks rise out of
an ocean of powdered sugar,

Immense swells of earth
frozen into a frothy storm
of rock and clay, ice and snow,
past and present.

These petrified fortresses guard
the secrets of Time;
God’s quietest moment held deep
in the cold keeps and proud ramparts.

A hundred-year sunset brushed
into the stone and sealed away,
the hushed beauty too magnificent
for our petty scope
held in a mountain’s indelible memory.

We are
So small in this:

A cancerous beetle in a canyon
that echoes the ghost of Eden.
Insignificant as a lonely moth
hiccuping at the moon,

And yet so necessary and vital
like every newborn’s first breath.

We pull through the creases
of these giants’ weathered palms
dragging our own miniscule vitality
through the folds of a Divine
life line

Pursuing our own fortunes
with bloodshot eyes and
restless hearts,
deafened by the defiant rhythm
of our forward march,
our celebrated entropy,
intransigent, transient

Ghost notes haunting
a troubled refrain.

About brokeMC

Artist: Graphic Design, Audio Production, Photo and Film Production and Editing, Painting, Writing, and all other manner of creative indulgence. and my moonwalk is ill.
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