Her Past is Mine (some shit I wrote on the subway)

We began as one, unified with the sky,

We had our differences though the divine nature was in our being,

Never going beyond our means with respect as our sole compass

Compassion didn’t even exist.

Existing through experience the most spectacular intangibles money could never dream of

Money didn’t exist.

Our emotions were nourished with the reservoir of a beautiful cycle. 

 

And then they came.

 

Without knowledge of indecency we reacted with the convictions of honourable, noble, men, women.

They reacted with the notions of abominations.

Ill-equipped for the games ahead our blood soaked the fertile mother beneath our war beaten skin.

To the Finish was our cry and with the burning spirit of our ancients we survived

With fragmented elemental mental emotional physical nourishment we fought famine swallowing what was forced with lasting drips of resilience though now, we no longer know her name.

Her face forced forgotten as millions of thunderstorms poured up we’ve been induced to believe that of mass emptiness,

Emptiness

Emptiness

In our present futures we glance past the past and force our attention spans to span only the futile SPAM in our face.

Believing beliefs to offset the empty voids left in place

Believing in beliefs to offset the empty voids left in place

Some of us tap the glory of our existence and find the serenity of our ancestors’ immortal souls…

But most don’t.

Most never will.

Most hate their reflection much like each other.

We’ve traveled lightyears under Space and find ourselves in the HEART of the everlasting devastation.

I’m on the TTC my cup runneth over seeing my connection with you I wonder,

Kapatid,

Do you feel my patience?

 

 

 

 

 

 

©2008 Myk Miranda. all rights reserved.

 

~ by m1ko on July 2, 2008.

3 Responses to “Her Past is Mine (some shit I wrote on the subway)”

  1. Really beautiful. This actually reminds me a lot of the poem I just posted, at almost the exact same time as you!

  2. Hey thanks, where’s the location of the poem you just posted?

  3. The man’s still got it…keep ’em coming Myk!

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