Place

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This world we have wrought would perhaps shock even Faust

Trading what is great and beautiful in us and the world for our pyrrhic victories

Losing our place between the great vaulted sky and the deep earth

It was our gift to dwell in the glory of things, as a note in the sacred song of the world

To share in the flesh of the world, as our ancestors before us had done

For we have not always been wretched, and when the night comes for the day of man

We may be able to say that there was some  beauty in us among the calamity

If you wish now for some greatness and beauty you must find that ancient place again

Not in the tortured world of “Man,” but where the cold blood of the old mountain runs

Where the great green pillars that hold the firmament may be found

Following the footsteps of the coyote or the great amber buck

Take the blade to your cherished “humanity,” cut it clean off 

Let your blood soak back into the dark soil, rejoining the beating heart of the world

This is our beauty, our greatness 


 

 

 

 

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