Litkicks Message Board Archive

Outer vision

Posted to Poetry




It is on this wave
That we flee our own entrapments
Encasing us in our own brine
and letting us stew
Like a pot that rolls but does not boil
I see the future, and its troubles
Too many stuck to a chair
that seems all too comfortable
While the raft slowly comes to the surface
This clear broth we've made
Has so many alternative uses
Will we eat it plain?
Or shall we create a palate
a feast for the saints
Who have returned to feed again?
This is how it ends
The last chapter in a book that bends
Into a new collection
About the rebirth of a new generation
With hundreds of years of experience
And a new voice that beckons to sing
For the phantom who returned again