Malcolm Streitfeld
Anchor Staff Writer
There seem to be three constants
Art imitates life
Life imitates art
And technology imitates nature
It is the last one
that provokes the most
curious
intrigue
To build upon the future
Look upon the past
Pick apart the primeval
Bathe in its beauty
Find solace in the old
As it and the now
Will soon
merge
Slamming down
apple cider bottle
Like its a whisky glass
My muse screams me awake
At every given opportunity
She does not like sleep, this maiden
Or “they”
I never thought to ask for pronouns
We copy ourselves as a species
Crafting works of fiction out of works of fiction
And then we plagiarize Mother Earth
Does that make us a society of fakers?
Certainly not. It just means we may one day…
reach the illimitable horizon
That vast sea of infinite
Where everything
becomes
one
and the
same
That frontier where
Opposites cease
to be distinguished
from one another
They swirl and
combine into
essence once more
And we transcend
Beyond our differences
Uniting in our ability
to overstep the lines
that keep us apart
We are blurred by design after all
Destined to eventually surpass
Everything that separates one from another
Love’s inevitable bonds
Will return us to cosmic dust
So we can all be together once more