Earth-Mulch

Metaphysical

Nature knows

the inside of us

and, still,

we have forgotten

our beginning

 

Earth-mulch: to seed

to breath,

not of gods, but gods

not of dust but, to dust

 

The grave knows:

we will remember

nothing

 

nothing

remembers us

================================

from my 9th book of poetry: SPHERICAL

(Argotist Press)

©dah / dahlusion / argotist 2019

first published in  Alien Buddha Zine

SPHERICAL is a FREE ebook download

visit: dahlusion.wordpress.com

Reviews

[Kay Salisu Titilola]

Great! DAH
This is a whole truth about human nature. We live, we die and our existence slowly fades. Men began to forget us, Time registers us in its past, life always forget to remember us, forgetting if we ever live on earth.
Once we die, we are gone; like a magical illusion.
Even the grave too soon forget that it ever eat a body,
Things is weird about life, nothing seems to remember us.

[DAH]

Excellent feedback, Kay, impressive.Yes, life is weird. Keep Pushing, Keep writing ...
DAH

[barleygirl]

Your poem is a sharp succinct way of stating a philosophy that sometimes feels like it sets me apart from the masses who rail against dying & death as if eternal life sounds like fun *wink! wink!* This is the crux of living in the moment. Expectations rob us of present vitality. Dust may be the next option, who knows? So why squander on it? (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[DAH]

Thank you for getting this one, Margie, And I do hope that you download a FREE copy of my ebook, SPHERICAL.

Cheers,
DAH

[Perdition]

Unique ...very unique...Being qua being...we exist and when you begin you relate being into nature as in it essentially does knows us...but nothing remembers us... this on the path of either Aristotle or Satre...perhaps a little of both..still quite unique because I want to scream out DNA..as the code must have a level of some form of memory,,,then I realized i did not sleep at all last night so ..well there you have it..lol. does it? Being qua being or a twist on essentialism...Thud! Nice work Mr. Dah.

[DAH]

This is a seriously fine critique, and I'll take the "Aristotle or Satre" as a first-class compliment.

Thank you, Perdition!
DAH

[Chris Shaw]

From the moment we are born we are destined to die. This short poem reminds us of our own mortality. We are here but for a short time and eventually there will be no trace of us ever having existed. Dust to dust. A sombre but truthful reflection DAH. A good write.

Chris

[DAH]

Thank you, Chris

[John Alexander McFadyen]

I love the synister morbidity of this well constructed but sadly toned piece as we are reminded of our mortality and that there is nothing beyond to recall.

[DAH]

Thank you, John

[CD Campbell]

But you dont know that. Not really. Know as much as I do I'm sure. Ah, the great mystery. Maybe the soil is the true soul that we come back to in some primordial way? We come back to the great body? Or are we just chemical meatbags? Gods in our own minds? The grave knows, you're right on that. Thought provoking words not unlike a stab wound that I will carry with me for the rest of the day.

[DAH]

Based on the fact that we know nothing of where we come from before birth, my gut feeling says: "we will remember nothing" and I always go with my gut feeling. Thank you, CD, for your interaction and ideas. You have many questions in this comment, unfortunately, there are no answers that hold truth.

[CD Campbell]

You got it.