Ancestors! Wrath befallen the rainbow,
Of seven generations, entrenched in future,
In the garden’s heart, I drown myself
Thoughts through past, at the present sins,
Stop.
Tell me wise men of old, are my sins yours?
Are disgusting, distasteful mistakes your former?
That I now regurgitate, whilst digesting your bile…
Look at the species I spill on the soil, for tomorrow.
Satellites will capture, they will ask stupid
questions,
Origin will fail to answer, melancholy will crawl out,
On the yard knowledge will speak, origin will listen,
Curses will be kissed unto the truth seekers, again.
M.O.O aka Carswell
evoL
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