The End of History
Saying that death is the wage paid by sin as if death spared the righteous when it had the chance is the kind of sweet lie that tries to lynchpin the tent where we listen to music and dance
We change when we live, and we change when we die and we die when we change and we die when we stop the tension inside each step of the dance is a try at new birth, with new dancers that swap.
some into the music some out of the fire as violins dance and the lynchpin pulls tighter and the tent is stretched tight like the string on a lyre as the liars all cry out in one cursed choir
"The song cannot stop and the tent cannot rip and the world cannot end, not by fire nor frost" A dancer looks up when they feel a cold drip and sees stars enough to, at last, be star-crossed they love the new sky but the old world's the cost
This poem strikes the same note with me as a couple of Edgar Allen Poe's works, I'm absolutely enamored. The tent metaphor, how we all dance together-no one can escape the changes we make to the physical earth and to the communities we are in, not the rich nor the righteous nor the powerful. Change is inevitable, but we also have to be aware when that change is measurably harmful. I LOVE how you've woven that metaphor through the whole poem. And then of course there's the wordplay (the lynchpin metaphor, lyre and liars, stars and star-crossed), and the rhythm? Impeccable!
I read the poem a few times when I saw it just now and found myself whispering it aloud, so I decided to record it. I hope that's okay! Enjoy!

















