What the Earth Remembers

Far is the lustral wash
of spaces scoured with rain
and the shift of turgid periodicity:

the augural eye has fallen away,
the last fading flinder
blown into the dark mouth of antiquity.

The earth heaves beneath its human scall
and all its patteran placed,
traces left behind by a growing hunger

a scorification of exponential scale;

only we might forget,
sculpting gods from beginnings,
filling them with the breath of our guilt

while all that is manifest,
untouched by the classifying eye,
unmired in mind,
untwisted from thought,

discovers the only fulfillment
of being exactly what it is

beyond all notions of truth.

(c) Seth Grube