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Claims Upon the Innocent
It seems we are forever falling,
Falling into empty channels
Where the darkness thickens and consumes us.
Who are we to know our fate?
Was it emptiness that birthed us—
Made us howl with fear at the life thus given?
Were we plants or animals, sealife or landlife?
Oh, how it fits us to mourn our omnivorous blood.
But the sea, like the mountain, is forever silent.
I was wishing for a new set of answers,
Consummate ones that could crack fate
And spread it on the nightmare of innocence.
For it is innocence that traps us,
Keeps us swimming in the well,
That tiny, dark sea within the earth’s core.
poem
by
Harold Standish
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