In This Place
in the greater scheme of things
nothing really matters
the fervent endeavours
of our daily lives are easily erased
we try and build legacies
we try and try
but even kings are forgotten
even kings suffer ridicule.
what of the fools?
what of peasants?
what of slaves endentured to the whims
of the pseudosanctified industry?
this dead thing
we breathe our life into.
like God breathed a soul into Adam.
yet... we are not gods.
we huff and awake the monster.
it masticates and spews us out.
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Comments about this poem (In This Place by Rae Edson )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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