Losing and Finding

May 2, 2013

It rode on the backs of drum beats
But Thunder slithered down through cracks in the sky
As an army of memories like artifacts passed us by.
War has been spoken, but at last is here.
The grinding distortion is only the storm you will become.
No defense necessary. Embrace their weapons, drink their horror.
These ranks are the preface.
Let bones reverberate, let movement rip from your flesh.
It is the birth of the new eating its mother.

Throw yourself into abandon–it will find you because
This is growing and we identify only with movement.
A voice like a flag
Clawing the clouds and killing interjections.
Birth is destruction.


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