Something Else

The sequel, if you can call it that, to Something...

It is hilarious, the things we say.

It shapes what shall be.

And again, there are those two clocks.

Tick-tock-tock-ticking away.

 

Inaccurate, again! And they shall always be.

The sky, light lavender...

The trees...they sway gently with the wind.

A hum of nature and mankind combined.

 

Tacks, pins, orange pigs.

Electronics, post-its.

Notes scrawled hastily

With pencil and pen

Onto paper.

Clocks made to tell time.

Buildings made to tame nature.

Pots made to contain plants.

Cages made to hold animals.

 

Oh, you think? Nature says.

You think you can hold me back?

It swirls its ivy, creeping it along

Up the buildings and down the streets.

Sends its snakes and rabbits and ants.

To tunnel and burrow along our things.

 

Pathetic! And I, a human, must laugh.

We think we can contain nature?

No, we have suffered

For much too long

Under the illusion that nature

Shall bow down to us.

 

Shall we wear robes of gold and silver?

Adorn ourselves with the name of king and queen?

Oh, we are far from that. Far, far away.

 

Not even time is constrained!

Those two clocks.

Tick-tock-tock-ticking away.

Never correct, are we?

And we suffer from that illusion.

 

There is no possibility.

Not even a tiny bit.

Not a wee bit.

Not even a slim possibility,

 

Perhaps only five out of a hundred.

Nature's magic.

It never ends.

 

Laugh all you want to the caged coyote.

Trapped inside the zoo.

Sure, stick your tongue at the trapped tiger.

Pacing, growling, inside the glass.

Nature, their mother, shall always be on their side.

And Time, their father, as well.

 

The glass cracks from strain and wear.

The bars quiver and cave in.

Us mankind, we, so arrogant!

 

We think we can contain everything.

That we are the masters.

Not so. Not so.

Nature and Time are our parents, too.

 

One word.

Betrayal! Kin upon kin!

What kind of brother traps brother?

What kind of sister taunts sister?

 

We take their land and their homes by force.

Then we say,

Oh dear, come to us.

We'll help you.

Cruel irony, should that be the case.

Trapping. Is that helping?

Caging. Is the mending?

 

Shall that reverse the things we have done?

Mountains and valleys have been destroyed.

Forgiveness is slim.

There is no room for error.

A possibility. Perhaps Nature, our mother,

and Time, our father, shall

Forgive us.

 

Perhaps only five percent out of a hundred.

Nature's magic.

It never ends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

As Else moves on from Something, we find that the flow stays constant with the Originations of where Else came from, that place of Something...that was before.... Yet, Else takes us upon a newer journey, or perhaps I would like to say, and evolving journey of thought and muse. Else is not just a pondering of nature verses the inner musings of man. Else takes us to an all new level of how man's pieces, their politcal and emotional brick a brack, stones, axe and anvil, all.... go crack upon natures back and it is here that Else becomes Something Else all together. Indeed they both have a creative repetition within the flow. I suppose it's that flow that ties the whole muse together, like a rope around a bunch of giggling grade schoolers, all trying to pull down upon the strength of one adult... But that's analogy is just what Else seems to scream. Like a constant source of bacon fat, the adults and the misguided resonance we of humanity has had in the battle field of long years, has become to slippery and greasy for their own good. Mother nature has spoken of the fates and Else has replied in this second flow of words.

In a gravely serious nut shell. Something...was something new. Something Else married perspective and they gave birth to interesting.

Great Ink!
Aaron - Wolfwind

[Lone Wolf]

thanks, aaron! whoa, you have great thoughts. thanks for the review!
:) Your ink is awesome as well.

[Lone Wolf]

Comment all you want. I want to hear which one is better: Something, or Something Else! :)