Million Arms

Civilization now ( January 2016 )

Far along the shores of branches,

the flavored roads,

waving leaves,

and the million arms

that beckon you to the wonders it hold.

Clearly, it was not the wings of an angel

nor the bearer of fangs

and beseecher of riddles,

as it solves one petal

of lies.

Channeling the crying seas

to rising of peaks

on smoking evergreens

with nothing,

but the polyester of faces.

Wipe away the eyes,

kneel your shoulders,

and quicken your breath

as fiber entangles your inner being

to a retched puppet

of mother nature.

Molding our ends

and completing man,

we face a block

in our system of power

and bombard it with words

so sharp like thorns to your heel.

Then, another man

awakens in the unseen

to foretell the consequences with his shield of tin

and sword of winter dew.

He will be the first,

but not the last of the million arms.