I am a Poet of the
Cosmic chord -- I say, “luz”,
Maja calls it, “love”.
Perception and digital signals, dials us up
one by one.
We are here; empty.
Come and fill us up,
just don’t feel us up; we’re tired
of being used,
tired of being consumed.
Trash bag over our young and we don’t even want to look
to see its face. An atrocity.
A lone 93-year-old man who’s loved so,
as to sacrifice decades of his life for a cause of millions...
and here he makes breath
for only few to ever see.
Chain-link to every human’s ghost.
A known unknowing of our eternity.
Jessica M. Wilson