Olive Trees, Lunar Eclipse, Cowardice

Olive Trees, Lunar Eclipse, Uselessness.

They say 'Seek out higher ground before sunset,
let the eye scan west as the Sun is skipped
over our skyline, into the unending abyss.'
Let it envelope you, in the cold, seven fifty five,
while someone else's seven fifty five consists
of bombs and starvation and grief and bloodshed.
We are inconsequential, we are entitled,
nothing like keys awaiting their ancestral home.
Our dalliance with life is trivial,
and yet, by some grace, reaching into the darkness,
the split second touch with an end,
we can pretend, make it enough
to go seeking,
to imagine meaning
is found in the throats of passion,
someone sat on the strip waiting to die,
someone sat the other side,
palm up, witnessing their demise.
In a dark moon, we can dream
we are more than a blind eye cast,
a vessel born without reason,
spines curled away.
The light will pour within,
fading burnt ash to plum and crimsons -
perhaps we too can bear witness again.