Endowed with the art of casting names upon its being
The humans claimed dominion over every living f___ing thing

Proud as a purpose they became to walk the earth
As they arraigned the common creatures
Caught within the corpus, cursed, conscious human brain

Every word that's ever written will fall short of its intent
Even sung or spoke or screamed, they will betray what they have meant

They will betray what they have meant

Language is the heart's lament
A weak attempt to circumvent the loneliness inherent
In the search for permanence

Like all the future ghosts who scratch their names in wet cement
Demeaning meaning as they shout out at the emptiness

Abstraction is the stake between the anima and animus
Deflesh the word as scourge of human destiny
Behold the world in other people, life is clarity

[Isosceles]

See also:
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