Wednesday, March 25, 2009

The World


The World
The World was not safe from Itself
If it had been human it would have rolled around
in it’s blue blanket seas and pulled the clouds
that billowed on endlessly
Up over it and waited to die
as only the most deeply depressed do
And sighed.
The kind of sigh that slips out slowly.
So Slowly you begin to contemplate…
if there might not be a gentle way to just not breathe.
But you always do…not having the energy not to.
Yes, just like that. The World Felt.
Mind you, nobody knew…I ask you how sad is that?
The thing was all a misconception which the World defined as a human error.
Humans conceived only the physical vessel, the earth,
as the World.
It was that, seeing the sum of parts as the whole,
that left a great deal not in the inventory…
which made the World…quite distressed
When the World is not happy all that walks
upon her surface may not be safe.
But this?
Oh, far worse!
In this state the World was not safe.
She was weak with grief and numb with pain
For too long she had been under attack.
On the inside she was torn and on the outside she was worn
And somewhere in the middle she huddled really small
And waited.
For someone human to note she had consciousness
But no one did… and that really…
as she sniffled back a year’s rain in one place
to sob it out and flood another place…
Was the last straw
Something snapped. Not like rubber band snap. More like large tree branch snap under a really big foot kind a snap?
Like ‘not wanting to be long around these parts’, kind a snap.
muttering angrily about and slamming stuff
Waves off of distant shores spilling the contents everywhere
What good, she screamed, was beauty unshared?
What good was awareness with nothing to express it to?
Had She not waited since the beginning of time?
Every leaf in her being trembled
for just a second all creatures great and small
focused intently on her…
the humans
she felt the flash and fire of enlightenment
they had sensed her presence
Too late for saving Grace
how deeply damaged she was how unstable
in this, not her best of moments…
billions of eyes seemed to see her
for once
Not past her or through her
And in those eyes and in that instance
all hope was dashed… she saw only
fear and disgust looking back
For what she thought in feverish shame
Had never been felt so deeply before
for her lack of not being
what they had suspected and expected
All eyes turned away from her in swift rejection
As if pretending she wasn’t there to be seen
Made it as good as it had been before
Her Self-Realization had cause their recognition
She took one last breath
spoke in spectrums of light that were long and undulating
And this is what she said,
How you fill the air, that is me, with your egotistical rants
and whining for more with your petty grievances and silly hatreds for each other
Like chickens you peck each black downy spot bloody.
It does not matter the color that you are.
I am infused with all color.
It has never mattered what you look like.
Can’t you see how ridiculous such things would be to me?
To me…who you could not see?
Do you not grasp it does not matter what you own?
To an entity that is all you have and has nothing?
Foolish creatures do you not see in comparison
you are all dirt below me even at your best
not a boastful hair’s breath between your worst and best
It does not matter if you be old or young
Time is but a making of your own
Or even who you love. All that matters is that you do.
And with those words, the World collapsed all her tears spent
And her fall was great and in it she lost consciousness
And without a thought the whole world ceased
It was not as she wanted or even close to what she needed
But at last there was peace.
 
Brightfire Woman © 2009