The Reseeding

In the damp predawn air, there I was, I was there…

You were but a distant flare.  A memory so fragile.

Precious. Rare.


Eschston, the bitter dawn, the bottles of life hung off

Our arms.  The breath of life drawn, pouring down, the

Stillness as cold as a dead pawn.


Emptiness is eternal in this camp.  We igniting Life, a

Great lamp.  These bitters of viscous oil, the DNA is our stamp.

Nothing alive to tamper with this camp.


Old sewers and swamps healed from the fall. Humpty Dumpty

Truly did have a great fall.   The wish was tiny, our

Order was tall.


“Life is a gift, and please won’t you stay?”  Our hopes

So high merely floated away.  You never listened. You

Always stray.


The breath of life here again brimming to full.

A million years before when you harvest the wool.  And still

We strive pressing with this pull: A great dance of Gods

And humans to pacify the lull.


 Parsbhjot (Per)


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