Matter Is Dead Poem by Brian Taylor
Matter Is Dead
Matter is dead,
dead or dying.
And in it, craving
craves its dissolution,
rehearses dissolution.
Expense of energy
in voluntary death.
Do not keep it young
or leave a creaky scream unwrung,
a forbidden song unsung,
a sin unsunned.
A pleasure’s but a pleasure,
and on pleasure’s wings
a man gets high,
remembers that sirens sing
and dolphins sigh,
that matter
never matters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 6:46:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
