An Oblation to The Conscience 

My reflection of you mimics mocking
jeweled millennia, when invisible constants

            were uncertain the simplicity of intuition,

science, philosophy, extermination. In it,
I am fluid between guesses and truths

            carve our ulterior canyon walls. Days

wane strength to nights inside to evince rippled
perplexity. You were once energy (renewable?),

            skinned one ghost at a time we felt vulnerable

enough to share anger: our only deep inclusion.

By Isiah Fletcher, 03 Jul, 2020

tags
poetry consciousness

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