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  • “And when I saw my devil, I found him serious, thorough, profound and solemn: It was the spirit of gravity.
    Through him all things fall. Thus Spake Zarathustra.” –Friedrich Nietzsche

    In the Paleolithic caves of Lascaux,
    He dreams of being a bird,
    Flying along a stone ledge,
    Where fate contemplates its next move.
    So envious of beasts and their land,
    He paints their image on his walls
    With red and yellow ocher.
    He learns to kill and cover himself in their clothing.
    He wrests fire from the sky
    With which he discovers its serpentine flames.
    He consumes the flesh of the sacred animal
    And evolves into the history of "being".

    Now he adorns himself in shining, ornate armor
    Within which his spirit submits to a plutocracy.
    Machiavellian machinations have assumed
    The minds of those who can’t find salvation—
    Who will kiss the gauntlets that encase
    The hands of the old faith?
    Who will save the souls of the dead
    Children of the new Heaven on Earth?

    The doors have separated from their hinges.
    (Did mankind fall from a stone/ metallic wilderness,
    A City of Spoils and Desire?)

    The Homo sapiens is connected to conduit lines,
    Seeking his greatest design—
    He breathed new life
    Into abandoned mechanical parts
    And gave it an experimental spirit.
    Prometheus would have been proud.

    Avoiding the stench of the Man's piss,
    He walks down rehabilitated streets,
    Dazed by the shine of his shoes and mirrors.
    He ponders through storefront windows; mannequins smile placidly
    As they attempt to steal his consciousness.

    He daydreams of ascending beyond his atmosphere:
    He wants to be a submariner in the Oceans of Mars.
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