Change Longed For

among the hunters with crossed
bow
there
were
sacred
things
Don't touch
the
things
are sacred

and
the
waters
are
holy
poor
things

there is a leaden eye
all
by
itself
it
floats
on
the
boiling
garbage

no
it
be
not
winter
no
not
on
the
kerbs
there
be
no
gusts
of
water
wave
after
wave

the eye,
the imagination
rolled
here
and
there
below
red
soldiers
toys
from dizzyingly
olden
times

beyond
redemption
are
those
times.

I
wish
to
turn
back
but
will
not

at
least
project
me
to
the
Cambrian
that
I
will
change
my
body-plan

there was a fount
to drink
my brain
goes back to the Cambrian
the
waters
loosen
their
bowels
and
flow
clear
and
crystalline
here
is
the
body-plan
- take it.

flows, air-lifts, clouds
arising
thoughts being born
others maturing,
I
here on this Earth
am occupied
with doing.

hovels
in
the Paleozoic
yet
together
clustered
families of things
will
live
in such condition.

come to it:
the blood is trickling
end
of
suffering

by Emmanuel George Cefai

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