December

by MT

This planet we call earth

The ground cold and weakening

I shivered, walking across the land

Silenced by the disinterested interest

Or is it

Purposefulness without purpose

 

This place we call home

The husk warm and supporting

I reeled, craving without content

Sealed by the smile of the oracle

Or is it

The unfulfilled promise of parctice

 

This prank we call self

The bone cool and bemoaning

I queried, staggering over the hypotheses

Content with the next slice of existence

Or is it

Turtle all the way down