Signs Of Life (idea)
Return to Signs Of Life (idea)
In the crevices of the [cityscape], high up on forgotten, unwitnessed rooftops, or deep underground in eternally-lit car parks and basements - [Tiny green apples|tiny and green] and clinging desperately, there are grasses and ferns, shrubs with browned leaves and loose roots - darkened with car-filth and stunted from shallow beds - [fed on poor chlorophylls and glass-reflected sunlight] - worming through gaps in the paving mosaics and the storm drain labyrinths, the roadworks fissures - or trapped in dry pots on balconies, [island universes] unpollinated, [The Fountain|glass bubbles] hurtling silently towards dying stars - new leaves and shoots for a cold spring - hurricanes held fast behind double glazing -
God help us, but there are [Neutron-bomb landscape, lights gleaming but no sign of humanity|signs] - I wither in the wrong arms and the wrong gaze, my love - like the patches of green we see in the [doors in the dead cities|dead cities], like the tenuous flowers in your gutters, I am vulnerable - I feel myself change in response to [the morning snowdrops fall like dew in the sunlight and fill my heart with their icy cold and all i can think about is you|sunlight], anger, coffee, sadness - I miss my family, I miss solitude - I cannot turn the page of my book and I cannot switch off the television - children frighten me because they are still savagely free - and I don't know if they're better that way or better like me.
There are no bees for the blooms and no nests in the tall trees and the water is [Beauty exists in scummy soup skin|lumpy and sick] with plastic and pollution - and yet there are swans patrolling the canal docks, there are willows leaning away from the tarmac and the concrete - leaf-shadows still move on the water's surface too - there are house cats curled up fat and sleepy in sunny patches on new hardwood tables in the steel penthouses - there are mosses and ivies creeping across the stonework of neglected warehouses and the walls of car parks, old stairwells, dull alleyways -
When we lie awake at night in fear of the inhuman demands of the next day - instead of going insane we go asleep and are filled with new patience every morning - our children run down corridors uncaring that [The light at the end of the tunnel has been switched off.|the light] at the end is flickering - for them the sun is the only sun and now is the only time and they have no memory of our [I have failed|failures] - life crowds their minds and heats their blood and drives the words out of their singing mouths with their birthright savagery. This purity, this vulnerability, this renewal.
There are [Searching for signs of life in the bottom of a cup of cold coffee|signs of life] - music in the city squares and parties in the rental honeycombs - children [parkour|free-running] in the urban gardens and somersaulting off the statues - new expressions and new addictions and new perceptions in eyes that didn't exist only a few years ago. New eyes - can there be a greater miracle than new eyes? Where did that mind come from to see the light entering those eyes? What radiates, what binds? How did a new being come to exist, how is it that this world can be witnessed? [The angels are lost in contemplation of an infinite glory|Glory], [Thus passes the glory of the world|glory], [God does all things to magnify His glory|glory] - or something like that. Words to do with dumbfoundedness. With crying for all those dear ones that we have left behind in time and will never see again, all those new leaves and [secret green and glowing things], all those new eyes opening on an always new world.