Acorn

A very old poem which came from staring into a fire in a suitable frame of mind whilst camping many years ago.


Acorn

before the clutter clutched at the sun
and held it in an atomic prison
before the whispering engine
dreamed its own inception
before the vacillating powers
paid rent on a single molecule
when tears were crystal
lining the walls of our song
the burden of scale
the laughter locked in an icecap
before my mind saw itself
and realised

I see the embryonic state of the sleeping acorn
the dreams in its head
the philosophy of leaves
a voice says drink deeply of this sweet cup
it will help you forget faces
the merging corporations
are just bodies melting together
the fire contains its own future
no wonder the trees shiver

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