C

And the globe of curiosity rolls on
In search of its home.
Past the meadows of certainty
And the rivers of confusion.
It rolls into abyss after abyss
Gleefully consuming carboard boxes hollowed cans combusting creatures comemorating
Longing.
It slides onto icy concrete
In search of less false beauty
To find the raw.
Deserting doom and demeaning demons
It heaves hope like rocket launcher throws fire
Without the flames.
The flames have died.

It comes across other spheres
They do not share
Food or thought, or food for thought
They are selfish
Nor do they sooth paths to salvation
Nor do they see. Nor do they see. Nor do they see.
Meaning shifts without warning.
And the rawness was found in the place it was left
In the home of the globe
At the center of its core
It bore clarity.