Law of Jante

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I stumble through thoughts
long vanished from my waking mind,
Taken for granted now.

Ideas dissolved into understanding,
bets placed on faith and intuition,
beliefs piled into perspective.

Moments stacked careful as dominoes
tensly teetering towards tumbling
to a time when all that will be is.

How brief is our glimpse
how nonchalant are we
to gerrymander a gravesite
etching roughly our own
graven image
across the silvered pool
of sacred stellar geometry

Each guilty little motivation (for innocence is lost always in the instant which creates it) rumbles fiercely across someone else’s blue sky. Every fence cleaves another’s green pasture. The origin of every sin is self-preservation.

Adepts of the art of obtrustive penetration, we fight futile against the only conceivable enemy, impermanence.
We claw and crawl greedily atop each other, the hunger only increased by our consumption.

If life is but the fire in the fuse,
must we then be forced to choose
to explode in violent resolution
or sputter fizzled in dissolution.

Or detonate we, in defiance
to the world give no alliance
to set our feet in soft clay of opposition,
perpendicular to the roots of mountains.

One’s life may be the sum of
the earth that one has moved,
but one’s soul is the variable
and in this way cannot be soothed
to fit complacent in math’s sedation
another number in an eons-long equation.

For as long as there is something else, an Oz beyond our stoic Kansas, no survey shall have the same to say as a single empathetic presence.

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