POISON DUST

POISON DUST

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

The poison dust of morning

further degrades our ambitious humanity

as Aristotle looks forward

casting pellets of rain to cleanse us.

In our temperance for permanence

such statues are false

for the legacies of our determinations

can only lie in Spirit.

Can we see in the eye of man

the cancerous lesions of greed’s impact

cutting his way through the flesh

stealing what he can, and

leaving the earth in its disparity.

The poison dust will never settle

for its movements are held justified

by our imprisoning natures.

The poison dust is redder than blood

coloring the skies with a dark and evil allure.

The book of records

has never changed our consumption for greed.

Vile and disillusioned minds

thwart whatever our civilization can be.

I sip my coffee against the reddish light

captured on the walls of my study

and God awakens me, for his mercy

exceeds all that mankind is.

To know that our existence is exemplified

by the class wars in our heads

I will don the air of Gods breath, and breathe

for what has man greater, than air?.

The poison is inhaled by choice.