A Day in Suspension of Disbelief (Going for Coffee)
Caught like a rat in a trap, I wonder what to do with myself
Wanting to escape, I wander, and ponder…
Old growth clinging to old ground
The trees don’t seem to move, cling to the frozen earth
For dear life, with their dry roots. I arrive, here
Where there is no life, looking for sustenance
That I cannot find
After another windy trek, I arrive here.. looking for sustenance
Feeling overwhelmed, by the noise and the din
Of comings and goings, in the confusion
The vibrance of youth, the gentle love
Between a mother and child
Can melt any hardened heart
A grandmother treats her young grandson to eats
So she can have coffee and gather some peace
A meeting of generations to fathom the world
The old and the gray, the quick and the young
On my way home, I’m feeling ill, I’m feeling cold
Everything looks properly old and deceased
Fallen limbs, sticks and leaves
Cold motionless and gray,
Motionless shadows interlaid
Layered upon sediments upon
The spoils of each generation
A barren lump of forest passed
Soon I am out of the woods and
Back on the path, back to eternity ~psp
My stomach hurts...
“To me, half the war is a memory of trees: fallen and tortured trees, trees untouched in summer moonlight, torn and shattered winter trees, trees green and brown, grey and white, living and dead. They gave names to our roads and trenches, strongpoints and areas. Beneath their branches I found the best and the worst of war: heard nightingales and smelt primroses, heard the scream of endless shells and breathed gas; rested in their shade, spied from their branches, cowered in their roots. They carried our telephone lines, hid our horses, guided us to and from battle and formed the memorial to many efforts of arms.” - Lt. Richard Talbot Kelly, 52nd Brigade RFA. Quoted in Tommy’s Ark by Richard van Emden. via
dr. π (pi)
.
Wanting to escape, I wander, and ponder…
Old growth clinging to old ground
The trees don’t seem to move, cling to the frozen earth
For dear life, with their dry roots. I arrive, here
Where there is no life, looking for sustenance
That I cannot find
After another windy trek, I arrive here.. looking for sustenance
Feeling overwhelmed, by the noise and the din
Of comings and goings, in the confusion
The vibrance of youth, the gentle love
Between a mother and child
Can melt any hardened heart
A grandmother treats her young grandson to eats
So she can have coffee and gather some peace
A meeting of generations to fathom the world
The old and the gray, the quick and the young
On my way home, I’m feeling ill, I’m feeling cold
Everything looks properly old and deceased
Fallen limbs, sticks and leaves
Cold motionless and gray,
Motionless shadows interlaid
Layered upon sediments upon
The spoils of each generation
A barren lump of forest passed
Soon I am out of the woods and
Back on the path, back to eternity ~psp
My stomach hurts...
“To me, half the war is a memory of trees: fallen and tortured trees, trees untouched in summer moonlight, torn and shattered winter trees, trees green and brown, grey and white, living and dead. They gave names to our roads and trenches, strongpoints and areas. Beneath their branches I found the best and the worst of war: heard nightingales and smelt primroses, heard the scream of endless shells and breathed gas; rested in their shade, spied from their branches, cowered in their roots. They carried our telephone lines, hid our horses, guided us to and from battle and formed the memorial to many efforts of arms.” - Lt. Richard Talbot Kelly, 52nd Brigade RFA. Quoted in Tommy’s Ark by Richard van Emden. via
dr. π (pi)
.