The Metropolis of Me
This city in which I live
This metropolis of me
Where skyscrapers stretch to
Reach the heavens
Towers babbling about us being God
Where we are so busy, trapped
Looking through empty frames of
Microsoft’s Windows
That our own windows have become clouded
Panes draped with cob webs and smoke
Residue of distraction and automated existence
Stimulus and response
Repeat, read
Has replaced my repose and regrets
Sorted into files within files
Paperless creations, updates
Statuses are me
Monkey see monkey do
While buildings tilt
Monkeys stacking sticks and stones on top
Of hollow towers hoping to get a little higher
Closer to the source of us, the cause of me
Jonesing for a fix of divinity
Then one day
Most assuredly these shaking shells
Will fall, down, down
In thunderous silence
Crumbling my place
And in time I will
Tottering out into the remaining ash
Of all I've done, undone, un-filling
Perhaps discover that in
My climbing, building, borrowing of wastelands
In what time remains
Among the ashen debris
Will come to me, this spent man
Shadows stretching from horizon to setting
This one truth
The divine rests not in self-willed towers
Or constant circuits, surging, urging
Affirmations of the deeds of me
But rather in the me of me
That lives in this city
When freed
Of me