The Dark Forest: Literature, Philosophy, and Digital Arts
Do you hear them? In the wind, the voices.
The rattling in the eaves, the swirl of leaves,
the tumble-weeds rolling across the desert floor,
the dust slicing into your eyes, the sun
like a white god sitting on the mountain top:
a toad on the horizon; we look around
us and see the ruins, the ruins of civilization,
scattered round us like a dead dog,
and its falling,
falling fast below the horizon, melting
into that white eye
…………………………I look back
and notice the truth of it,
the moon that held a goddess once
has left the sky; she is no more than dust
upon the black shores of time;
we’ve murder her and set the circle free
to roam beyond all human meaning:
Why? Why have we killed our past,
torn down the mysteries, broken truce
with ancient worlds? Death, our culture?
We think we’re so smart, we…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 