... the artists flare up their voices… the musicians write the lyrics, painters create the images, observers capture the now of it..
The Take- Over
He oozes in —
by ounce by pound by ton and
numbness begins when He
vampires every single thought,
silences every sound of anyone
around Him, He oozes in —
Logic confounds, knowledge fades,
a newspaper, a book page
dying in His thoughtless flame.
Human resolve — the glowing edges
curling, shriveling — all dissolved,
those artful conjoining efforts and then
the blackening reality, humanity’s
thin ashes drifting
weightless,
the flickering embers
the burning awareness,
— the take-over of ours,
the absence of His.
He’s running out the clock for us,
our time to neutralize His ruin and rut,
His crush — while our collective souls resist —
— and our multitudes cry,
“Not this!” — “Not This!”
1/12/24 ~~ djl
All in all, a beautifully rendered poem of great insight.
Ron