Existence drips like melting wax
Over the trembling surface of the self
And deep down into the dark recess
Beneath the bedrock that we stand upon,
The stable structures that are built to float
Upon a maelstrom’s maddened waves.
So look upon the shapes, the forms it takes,
Like gaping faces with hollow, empty eyes,
And hungry maws, the jaws extended far
Too far to be perceived with mortal eyes,
And pouring forth scavenging beasts and flies
To pick the bones of all the slumbering dead.
Upon their bones is this great kingdom built,
Their blood and spirits mixed like mud to form
A mortar binding all these monstrous walls
To keep the swirling shapes and faces out
And stand erect against their moaning songs
Like waves that beat against a rocky shore
And wear it down, and wash its strength away,
And make the monolith a pile of sand.
For Chaos whispers, dancing on the edge
Beyond the walls we hide behind in fear.
It calls from deep within the silent space
Beyond the dark, and speaks in ancient tongues
Too old and senseless to be understood
But striking chords within our very cells.
Yet all have listened to that music now
For ages and for eons out of time,
Those songs that fill the boundless universe
And push it farther outward, push it all apart
With darkest energy so fierce but unperceived,
An orgiastic eruption of cosmic ecstasy.
And so we come together, toil, and build
A solid ground for selves to stand upon
And live within the swirling shadows of
A primal, wild, primordial world gone mad.
But stop and listen with an open ear,
And soon you might just recognize and hear
A harmony between our labor songs
And that dark voice from where the silence sings.
Image credit: Stephen Conatser, from Wikimedia Commons, under a Creative Commons License.