Thursday, December 13, 2012
The Beauty 1979
Not all love her as we do, Standing Corn.
It takes a long time to see her beauty.
A lifetime, at the very least.
And we have been here, time out of mind.
Then they came.
First, just a few
Later, many more than we could bear.
And they changed the face of the land
Many of us could not bear to see her so changed
They went with great sorrow to the grave.
How much sorrow is contained in her belly, Standing Corn.
They conquered everything...
I don’t envy them.
Not their cities, which they abandon
Not their boundless desire to subdue
See, then they withdraw inside their newest city
And they don’t see her beauty.
They set out to escape their reflections
And cover all her beauty with new ones.
They all say they love her, Standing Corn,
But not all love her the way we do.
You and I, we pick through the brush
And reason out the tangled growth, our eyes caressing her beauty.
We are born. We live. We age.
She too. She is always changing.
The hordes swallow her,
And in the end, she contains them.
I cannot leave her because she is changing.
Can we run away from death?
We awaken. It is very subtle, Standing Corn.
Time out of mind.
We came here, too.
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