Construction in Progress

A poem

The old grammar school
in the centre of town
her bricks came tumbling down
as felled trees

concrete rising rapidly from the rubble
quick growing silver birches
which burst the suburban bubble
they nest new neighbours

outside the window
their worry perches
squeaking at dawn
in some unknown avian song

“they don’t belong”
said Mr Quo, to Mrs Quo, reciprocated

“first, this, then that. Soon, all we know
- gone.”

… and still the sun shone
through the room
but, nobody noticed

the rosey hues around yesteryears anecdotists
overwhelming any intervention

live - whilst you are!
cried the April rain
when she speckled the skies
to remind us, again
to appreciate the coming season

it’s nothing new
- change happens
it doesn’t need a reason

we don’t own a thing
but, perhaps, our bodies
- and even those, we borrow

do we truly even own our joy, and our sorrow?

Or, is it a fantasy we experience
fleeting
just chemical pathways
in our brains
meeting?

we leave as we came in
judged in death
not the pennies in our pocket
or, the wrinkles on our skin

reclaimed alike

she, the earth
best we charm her, not harm her

we, merely her sentinels
and our bodies, our armour
glistening in the sun
as we gatekeep
her bounty
till we return
to it

and maybe, just maybe
we have a skeletal claim
to build more than memories
perhaps more than a name
etched on some stone
or, in hearts and minds

the war on mortality
goes on

in this vanity - is there any wealth?

why do we battle to be remembered?

a deathless self

what does it tell us about ourselves - our wants, and needs

in building pyramids
to our field of reeds?

the search for immortality
goes on

we can conquer flesh
in passion
love, or lust
regardless
the one thing
never to die
I trust
is our urge
to bring an Alexandra
to foreign soils

what is the essence of our existence
the sum of all we are
everything we have ever explored, felt and thought
every emotion questioned, and answer, sought
every moment passing
before us
- to us
every moment passing
before us
- after us?

as buildings rise
above us
where we lie

in the timeline of the Earths existence
am I - are we - good gatekeepers
in humanities contingent subsistence?

© Darius the Mate


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https://nicecissist.blog

Wordplay Pathway

2 thoughts on “Construction in Progress

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