The Wise Ry Guy

I see no hope in life

Those lovely moments Good and Great flow through my bloodstream at a rate too quick for capitulation

Already escaped, they pass into my skin

And skin passes into flaking danded death as this soiled soul to satisfy another customary revolution cycles into a fresh form

They fall with my dead skin cells into the wind away permanently from the newer body with which my weary covering replaced itself

Eventually, the soul follows these moments in search of them

To fall into its own bloodstream

Passing through the skin into the dirt afresh

Alocalising from its material facade to cut shackle-ties & sticky garlands

To establish separation ‘twixt itself and its former dwelling, the road of moments Good and Great

For Memory is the tool of Life

And Death the search for Memory

And thus the soul casts off out from the revolution, cut and unstuck

But for today I am content to see

That which has been deemed

The Spark of Divinity

Which moves a Soul to Live and Love

To Wonder and Create

Moments Good and Great obey

Imperatives to run and go

To prevent any stagnancy of the bloodstream’s hope