Mantz Yorke
When we are gone
Are we merely atoms
randomly juxtaposed in darkness,
made luminous in brief collision, yet blind
to the transience of our being?
No, we are more. Our significance lies
not within the matter of our existence
but in its substance,
intangible, between.
Our being is an ordering
won briefly from the chaos of a cosmos
fragmenting as we watch.
But at what cost?
We must deny ourselves the past,
deny ourselves a future,
not look beyond the moment, knowing as we do
that fungus threads the ground on which we lie.
No chronicle, no gold
shall mark this chance conjunction;
the wild orchid, blooming
secretly among the grasses,
shall not be betrayed.
Such shall be our silence
till the shadows stretch towards us from the hills
and touch us with their cold.
And what shall there be when we are gone,
consumed by fire?
Dust will once again be dust,
its atoms left
tingling from the fire,
dispersing,
mere spicules of warmth
in the absolute cold.
Mantz Yorke lives in Manchester, England. He is an award-winning poet whose work has appeared in a number of print magazines, anthologies and e-magazines in the UK, Ireland, Israel, Canada, the US, Australia and Hong Kong.
When we are gone
Are we merely atoms
randomly juxtaposed in darkness,
made luminous in brief collision, yet blind
to the transience of our being?
No, we are more. Our significance lies
not within the matter of our existence
but in its substance,
intangible, between.
Our being is an ordering
won briefly from the chaos of a cosmos
fragmenting as we watch.
But at what cost?
We must deny ourselves the past,
deny ourselves a future,
not look beyond the moment, knowing as we do
that fungus threads the ground on which we lie.
No chronicle, no gold
shall mark this chance conjunction;
the wild orchid, blooming
secretly among the grasses,
shall not be betrayed.
Such shall be our silence
till the shadows stretch towards us from the hills
and touch us with their cold.
And what shall there be when we are gone,
consumed by fire?
Dust will once again be dust,
its atoms left
tingling from the fire,
dispersing,
mere spicules of warmth
in the absolute cold.
Mantz Yorke lives in Manchester, England. He is an award-winning poet whose work has appeared in a number of print magazines, anthologies and e-magazines in the UK, Ireland, Israel, Canada, the US, Australia and Hong Kong.