Treasure Island

Christopher Withers


missed, the sleepers


spawned.
coherency gleaned from light and glitter,
shaped by mothers hand.
school imbued with a'pproved knowledge:
force-fed from
our fathers land.
a truth: awareness, gazing out
the universe
turned on its unself,
yet
now reduced to mundane span,
as bound mind, as bound hand,
surveys the dirt,
yet
missed the land.

Submitted: Friday, August 13, 2010
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