By Lucas Steele
I know not the spool that started our thread.
Wire which pierced our flesh and bound us.
We are not the pose we are stuck with,
For I am autonomous and persist.
We are not the brains we were given,
For I need not reason to exist.
We are not our hearts, our lungs or thoughts,
For my actions are but a history, a wave.
We are not our veins and blood,
For when I run dry I outlive the soil, brave
We are not the crashingocean or the tumblingsea
For I live in constantfear of our paths crossing right in front ofme,
We are not our brittlebones
For my grave is but a throne.
A room with no space for any others,
No air between my collection of ashes,
Epochs to crack the coffin and mix me indistinguishable from the dirt.
But I am dead, I am not the earth.
When I am but untraceable.
When the last utterance of my name cannot be tracked marked found located perceived thought of dreamt of remembered,
I stick with my name and persist, my lungs, my heart and brain outlive the soil, I brave the crashingoceans, that’s the reason, exist. I crossed the tumblingseas, I fought my constantfear, and now my thoughts. my words.
Live on
The spool runs empty, but I cannot end.
We are but one tree connected by our impossible roots.
We are but one thought shared by two
And when I am alone and I don’t know how to be,
Rearrange me and I stay the same
Make a mess of me, and I remain.
My fingers just threads bound together with yours
Run your fingers across me. love me like noone else can.
It is then you will see we are nothing but the dirt.
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