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By Eos

If we wake up dead
Are we alive
Or something holy instead?

This night time blight
Disease or destiny
To be whole, must we be empty?
To adore, must we abhor?

An octave above
Or maybe too many below
My deafening silent “hello”
Heard by every soul

Resonating with the cells in the making
Dissectioning, my hands are always shaking
Directionless affection, please save me from the questions
Asking outloud for answers, emancipate me from the lessons
My head is so heavy, the weight of the weary

This maternal mess,
Seven billion turn in circles right and left,
And Heaven’s children have gone bereft
Working wonders with words, I do my best
To conciliate and implore everyone I can
But I can’t facilitate force with these human hands

But what if I was the diameter,
The creation and the creator
the standard to be measured?
I placed the poles and drew the equator
A current with and against the flow, a dogma to forgo,
The sensation is no longer set,
My agnation, now I know the rest

No wonder this world needed no intro
This is my kingdom, this is my home.