Untouched Earth

by Renwick Berchild

It all falls away when building, the mind chiseling
A fever dream starting at the high, never getting down
To the low. And lower is the stair stepping away
Fast as a mare in full stride on open plain, whistling
Grasses notwithstanding, there’s a howl unheard.
It’s the narrative, the voiceless unsilenceable;
Time piles on the reveries as stone layers in growth,
The philosopher plinging long fingers across a
Loom to seize the notes and write themselves a
Good reason, for that’s the longing. Reason. I’ve
My own reasoning as a dog has his and a bird
Has hers for their prolonged action of living.  
Mightn’t the powerful and weak both be weary of
Stations, grasped purpose purporting the
Institutional tiering. The structures, I dare say,
Erected here, have never once touched the earth.       

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