Confession
One flint marker.
Theories and questions buzz like
Flour-dusted bees,
Chalky-white in the sunlight,
Buzzing and whizzing through my brain.
How do I destroy the world's
One desperate hope?
How do I extinguish the divine spark?
It feels like murder.
Two flint markers.
I try to hide my crime,
Desperately scrubbing my blood-stained hands,
But the fossils, finches,
Mockingbirds and tortoises
Gave me away. The evidence is
insurmountable.
Three.
The world is not a haven; the wind
Whispers not peaceful melodies,
But war cries,
Telling of each organism's struggle
For survival.
Four.
And yet, man will yet draw closer
To perfection
In the midst of the toil and struggle and hard reason
Shines sympathy,
That noblest part of our nature,
Somehow transcending
Life's toil, warming others and ourselves.
Five flint markers.
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