Dust,
ashes:
Thence I come,
to this I go.
I am sojourning
between eternities,
a clever automaton
with springs unwinding, running down
until gears cunningly wrought lie still.
Whither then sentience of this essence?
Oblivion precedes this consciousness.
Sentient cognizance and conscience
cannot recall non-existence
or imagine its return.
Comprehension of self
is consequential,
not substantial.
I am not
ashes,
dust.
Author notes
Double Etheree
In a list
A contest entry
- Vibrational Matrix of Space and Time by drifting cloud.
700 points, ended November 16, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Nice. I like this form of poetry. It pulls the mind out of logic and into just observing the pictures. This poem crescendos then returns with a nice ending.
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Oh, so well constructed! And such a beautiful "argument" about the nature of existence... the thoughts that course through our minds as we get older, and wonder... Lovely work, here.
Lita
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