Generations

How did Adam, one with God,

The unified naked one

Become Atom, the smallest particle,

The split disunion of the universe?

It took generations;

First came the source of all truth,

Where we know nothing

Then came knowledge

The beginning of the blind eye

A sort of science of classification.

That over there, aesthetics -

The anarchy of the senses

Death by turning the blind eye

To the methods of death

Death by classification

By the dewey decimal system

Death by reason

Then turn your blind eye

To the years of solitude

Then death by insanity of civilization

The history of death by war

All cause to

Search out the original source

Of our existential dilemmas

That man there — that aesthete du mal

That hangs himself, a parody of our self

He mocks history by classifying himself —

A poet mostly

He turns his blind eye to the fire

Of his generation, identity on fire

From light bearing down

Into the kindling wood that is his

Soul, his work —

His blind eye is his hope

That fire will burn

To true nature

And erase all

But the first generation

And lead him back to Adam.