Wait, Think, Speak

26 April 2023

Stillborn I fell through the silence of water
past life-forms and fishes uncouth to my eyes
and descended, awakening once more in Asia,
no longer afraid. She was cunning and charming
but little did I know she'd tempt me
to give myself up for her dream, that that dream
was the flower of five-thousand years. What was I
in her thrall? Just a subject of political
experimentation, unburdened of freedom, near dead
with remorse or from absence of light. I would
counter with energy pure from the true well
of Hellas, or if this too sickens, then
out of the well of humanity, some substance comes.
And I take it and groan at the weight of it,
knowing though that such is mine, throughout time,
and that only tomorrow will tell what we do here
but I for one lend time my hand and my ear,
and by this you will know me, for this is my sign,
this remembrance of time in its service despite
the loud claims that all clocks are manmade
and need manual winding. My silence
speaks volumes against these blasphemers,
who never could wait, think, or speak.