Lay upon the earth <br />against the ancestors' remains, <br />hear her molten dirge, <br />the womb of this immortality, <br />a garden of human consciousness flows <br />the civilized spring <br />a result of many experiments <br />of life <br />now moves your new fingers <br />along the open page. <br />All that you see she breathes <br />the ethers that cloud <br />the rising continents, <br />in her memory echoes the footsteps of creatures <br />whose energy now roams <br />the thoughtless exploration <br />motivating your skeleton; <br />In the beginning, you were on <br />fire <br />until she made a wish, <br />blew you out and formed <br />you, cooled you in the sea. <br />Now lying like a frightened soldier amidst the dead, <br />a somnambulist in occupations <br />of self denial, <br />upon the weedy bossom, <br />she closes her eyes as clouds <br />mount the sky; <br />You can feel the struggling <br />evolution, <br />your future's brother <br />kicking his ascendancy <br />there amidst the nameless <br />shoots of withering emerald, <br />the womb of this immortality.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-womb-of-this-immortality/
