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Look at him how he sleeps While all around seeds are popping Artistry’s craft of cycled
ages very much alive Whither and when does he visit? Medals and trophies calling to him From the branches of his soul And of those still to come? There are altars always at the
ready When the ageless one must be
appeased Too many bells and whistles in the
soft hardware A perilous thing The Titanic dubbed unsinkable The original TV Superman George
Reeves Committed suicide or was murdered The more recent version winding up
paralyzed When tossed from his horse Hip Hop star Aalyiah
dies in a plane crash Shortly after completing Queen of
the Damned But look at him how he sleeps While all around the trees are
springing new leaves You splendid examples of artistic
botany Singing your chorus waves in
symbiosis with the wind Sooner or later to blow too hard
or not at all And while he slumbers before the
altar You might accuse him of recycling
old foliage His own new seeds and leaves to be
no more? Ah but he’s seen this
deciduous hibernation So many seasons of wither before
knowing The stasis is not to be tampered
with or ridiculed Nor does it come close to implying
permanent death Consider it a defense mechanism of
the debugging variety To ensure continuation of the
species The only other certainty sooner or
later You splendid examples of artistic
botany too Will face that deep sleep Your choice to fight it far from
the altars Or succumb to later awaken to A whole new world of seeds and
leaves
© 2004 Chris Sorrenti
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