This Time, This Place.
In this time Now, at this place Here..
the only obligation we have is to ourselves.
For the future holds no trace of us as we are now.
As we agonize over fighting these fights or championing those causes,
mindlessly scrambling for answers and doing as we’re told,
there awaits a brand of Man who will shed no tears over what we choose to suffer.
In a world where there are no more sounds of delight or noises encouraged by pain.
Where all that’s left to hear will be the steady humming and thumping of a machine
harvesting Nothings buried deep in the dirt, grown from seeds in the shape of our bones.
Fertilized by the composted remains of things carelessly tossed aside,
like Man’s strength and Woman’s tenderness..
Shame and Affection..
When desire and logic no longer serve to bind us to one another.
When expressing pride in one’s own tribe is deemed a spiteful sin
and the act of trying to keep one’s DNA creations, a punishable crime.
When the stink of the profane finally becomes indistinguishable
from the aroma of anything imagined to be Divine.
And most certainly when all value from all things has been stripped, strapped and ripped apart
by our own hands..
At this time Now, in this place Here.
the foto By radachynskyi
the fiction By Ramsy