The day is throttling to sundown, the voice of the Urbe is clear,
Millions of tiny sounds emanating from the city carbon steel belts
Carbon is so important, silicon and oxygen, makers of planets, bonds of life.
We are bystanders, and what are you, game controllers, kings of destiny?
A “man” should never anticipate the conjunction of facts of his fate
Some cinematically say fate is what we make, question is what we make?
Is a kiss thrown to a passing child, a signature on a will, the first breath?
An embrace to an elder, a fight to death, a measure of a star, words on a thread.
As we rotate head down the seas continue to held mystery and our source of life
As we spin head over heels in love nature plays the dice of meeting a good wife
- Autor: Mera Gente (Seudónimo) ( Offline)
- Publicado: 20 de mayo de 2014 a las 06:07
- Categoría: Naturaleza
- Lecturas: 36
- Usuarios favoritos de este poema: jairodelacroix
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