Tags
Consciousness, death, poem, poetry, Technology, Titanic, Unconscious, Universe
RIDDLE
we could frame it
as a riddle
this thing consciousness
our best, worst condition
one foot in
one foot out
thing of dreams, spirit
of our being
rooted in blood and guts
and then
that iceberg
living in the shadows
massively obdurate,
nine times bigger than
what pokes out
through the surface
who would have thought
water in its solid state
could shear a ship
from bow to stern
an unsinkable ship, pinnacle
of all our science and
all our technology
I think you know
of which ship I am talking
hard not to conclude
mistake piled upon mistake
error upon error
something in our nature
wrote that vessel’s death warrant
sent it steaming
to the ocean bottom
and with it
fifteen hundred souls
fifteen hundred bits of consciousness
universes complete
and entire
of their own