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Don McClean Miscellaneous Tapestry Every thread of creation is held in position by still other strands of things living. In an earthly tapestry hung from the skyline of smouldering cities so gray and so vulgar, as not to be satisfied with their own negativity but needing to touch all the living as well. Every breeze that blows kindly is one crystal breath we exhale on the blue diamond heaven. As gentle to touch as the hands of the healer. As soft as farewells whispered over the coffin. We're poisoned by venom with each breath we take, from the brown sulphur chimney and the black highway snake. Every dawn that breaks golden is held in suspension like the yoke of the egg in albumen. Where the birth and the death of unseen generations are interdependent in vast orchestration and painted in colors of tapestry thread. When the dying are born and the living are dead. Every pulse of your heartbeat is one liquid moment that flows through the veins of your being. Like a river of life flowing on since creation. Approaching the sea with each new generation. You're now just a stagnant and rancid disgrace that is rapidly drowning the whole human race. Every fish that swims silent, every bird that flies freely, every doe that steps softly. Every crisp leaf that falls, all the flowers that grow on this colourful tapestry, somehow they know. That if man is allowed to destroy all they need. He will soon have to pay with his life, for his greed. |
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