Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Fresh Records of Ancient Matters

The spiritual
Is material
Turned out of its home,
Matter made homeless.

In an era of wonders
When disembodied voices
Answer our requests
As in fairytales,

We find we only worry
More about the end,
Not even of us,
Who must end, but everything,

As if everything
Depended on us
And the best of our angels
Cast out of heaven’s machines.

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