Threading Hunger’s Needle

Acumen's voice smolders quietly
when deafened ears respond only
to discords of witlessness.

Wisdom's heat invites comfort,
its embers remain alive,
its wake of constant resolve
lifts vigils of swirling persuasion,
choking away illiteracy,
ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously.

Ever present

Creation's insight,
remaining airborne in a void for those
with causeless breath being held,
affecting not its surroundings
forever stale ether locked,
roiling chasms of fear
exuding odiferous spoilage,
rotting,
polluting,
repelling.

Such misery holds steady
among repeated indulgences of flesh,
the masses' quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding.

But cling it must,
this resistance to reflection and growth,
feeling safe in unknowing
the rewards of philo-logical pondering.

Sign and verbal,
touch and smell,
eye and ear,
an all-sensitive motion
making ready transference from literal
to ethereal possession.

For some…

A chosen distance is preferred,
a huddled observation from
deep in the abyss of ignorance,
self-importance perishing alone
amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise,
while wisdom's whisper
continues wanting to scream

into the threading of hunger's needle

languishes in space.