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Amongst the chaos is where you will find
the masterpiece, buried deep
beneath the layers of woven hair and tissue.

At the core of our being is a perfect design,
surrounded by cells of imperfection
that we try in vain to uncover, expose, reveal
that masterpiece within us all,
the essence of perfection; our souls.

And so, we beat our heads against the wall
trying to yield the god particle that we all possess,
beating ourselves senseless, colliding
into bedrock, destroying ourselves, and most often
everything we possess and love, only to rebuild,
again, in a feeble attempt to rediscover
the stronger version of ourselves;
a bizarre system of self loathing, we call
soul cleansing, if only it was as simple as cutting hair.

Humans are stupid, foolish engineers
surrounded by complex systems of chaos,
designed to limits and doomed to fail.

We have our legal systems, our road and rail transport,
our defence systems, religions and communications;
all man-made imperfections, all systematic failures.

Before history, before souls were baptised,
sins were cleansed with sticks and stones,
our souls sanitised with leaves, impurities
washed away from palaces in Crete, down rivers
of golden brown, through pipes of glass and clay, until
humans connected, then multiplied and infested the world.
They crushed ecosystems, consumed land, energy, oxygen
and polluted the skies, rivers and seas.

Our plight to perfection blinded us from the truth
that we turned shit into water and water into wine.
Foolishly, we tried to destroy her, the ultimate system,
the mother we took for granted, a mother
willing to sacrifice her children; and that there
is the key, the core purpose of existence.    

No matter how many humans she sacrificed
we continued to suck the life from her world, hanging
from threads of the greatest imperfection conceived by man,
yet we worshiped IT like a god,
pathetic slaves shrouded in our web,
feeding off our own shit, wasting life on virtual failures.
So we sat there content, strangely disconnected from the world,
watching beautiful zombies devour life at lightning speed.

Beneath the layers of woven hair and tissue
they unearthed her masterpiece, a man
baptised Samson of darkness and shield.

The judges severed his seven locks
and gouged out his eyes,
then ushered her son to the pillars of their temple.

This poem was written for the "Intergalactic Epic Relic" poetry comp.
Written by case28 (Alexander Case)
Published | Edited 27th May 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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