steve a. manolis poet

Sentient Beings

 

 

We are consciousness

for the good or the bad of it

we are aware of our own demize

War goes on

and we have gotten acustomed to the sadness

heads have fallen, the creatures burn

faces melting to the horror of no one

yet, we toss more bombs

into the pit of the monster

we feed our souls empty sorrow

and the world cries to silence

and in the long run, we die.

 

The belly of the beast,

which is ourselves,

is unquenchable

 

We are sentient beings

and to what end

We are connected to the embodiement

of this world,

mother nature takes care of herself in the long run

and we have learned little from her in our lives.