18/365 Poetry Posts
Chant:
by Chris Abani
It was the hornbill that spoke it.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
How does the darkness hide?
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
The sun is no bigger than a crab.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
Hot soup is devoured from the edges.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
The blood sign is red; burning like fire.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
It has no name; silence is its name.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new.
by Chris Abani
It was the hornbill that spoke it.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
How does the darkness hide?
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
The sun is no bigger than a crab.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
Hot soup is devoured from the edges.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
The blood sign is red; burning like fire.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new
It has no name; silence is its name.
In the nothing, becoming nothing,
begetting nothing; this is everything.
The world is old, the world is new.