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he became the ground

by Charlie Morgan

though shrouded in sadness and
after the death of the oldest prophet,
a fruitful philosopher appeared.
professing to communicate,
he said, with an unseen power;

whose advocacy of life includes
all plants and animals,
tho' neither show nary a sign
of interesting themselves
in our human affairs.

still our burden is to
find value in life and
to regard animals and vegetables as
having a common ancestry:
our cousins, if you will.

and we must do as they've done
and adapt ourselves
to our habitual environment,
giving nurture to need
and shade to the enriched.

fill to full, empty to nada
dressage to vulnerability,
and in concert as we are baffled
by the miracles seen and too,
we stare, ignorant of all the ways.

12/13/2005

Posted on 12/13/2005
Copyright © 2025 Charlie Morgan

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 12/14/05 at 12:31 AM

Chazman, I think nature teaches quiet lessons to the gardener who chooses to live within the paradigm of the garden. Yet, we respond with a sort of, horticultural euthanasia. Brilliant write.

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/14/05 at 02:54 PM

It is good to know I belong to all this geneology of things animate and inanimate and not feel alianated toward any, even when I am slaying or consuming them or they are consuming me or getting clunked o'er the head with a stone or felled by a tree ----- it is all for the good, all for a communal slaying and consummation, and for this we the geneologists recite a communal prayer to the deities of consumption, digestion and expulsion.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/14/05 at 03:25 PM

Well worded reminder that if we don't respect nature and those creatures large and small we share the planet with, we are doomed to the fate of the dinosaurs.

Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 12/16/05 at 12:01 AM

and the game is called fitting in. we so often take our environment for granted and forget that it's not just for us. a wonderful tribute and lecture to those who let this concept slide from their memories. heavy on the conscience...a good poem with a lesson for the ages.

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