Somehow, She Was Swept Away

Inorganic stasis,
underdeveloped pallor,
semantic callousness,
breaded sight of serendipity,

Contained within your own head,
you are never quite fully dead,
for humanity is who you are...
The sentence that never ends.

Spoken in the paradox of Time
We create fission bombs of thought,
sparked by beauty in simplicity,
or awe in complexity

Foreign particles collide
within our dreams of our own creation
the Ocean rises...
burying your great city.

Somehow, she was swept away.


[21:15|19.1.012] ©c.thomas.carter