Isolation from the carbon cycle

After eighteen months
After the moths have done
The soul passes through
Solid ground, and tells you
The truth of nations
Decomposing through
Orgasmic soil
Not dead
Transferring
To a place
Underground
To become
The fuel
The last hours
Of ancient sun light
No more to come
Actions halted
By wooden boxes
The sun wonÕt shine
With modern advances
But with them comes
Technology
To move forward
On sacred ground
Falling towards the earth
The core of knowledge disrupts
The old growth thoughts
Roaming nomads used to have
Gloves prevent scratching
Of black holes in the grassland ground
The wind disrupts hollow ground
The truth is found
With subterranean
Paths
Leading to the youthful new
Creating the trampled morning dew

 

very thought provoking


I liked it.

 

What is this?

 

This must be some sort of a conspiracy!

 

that was great man

 

I got out of it "old death creates new growth, rebirth."