BPR 52 | 2025
Out there in the woods
in the dense darkness
the animals are retreating
as we advance
advance
advance
and there’s no one to stop
our march through time
we march through time
as if we owned it
as if we could conquer it
but the animals know
there’s nothing we own
it’s all only on loan
and in our arrogance
our desire
we take
we acquire
we sit
at the top of the hill like a squire
overseeing his domain
we even think we own the rain
but we own nothing
not time
not the land
not our smallest acquisitions
we don’t even own our own
thoughts which are thought up
for us by someone else
and what is a self anyway
but a long series
of acquisitions made upon us
as if time had marched
through us and taken us
where we never wanted to go
and then the rain came in
through all the cracks
time made in our skin