sets the darkness echoing (ziarre) wrote in brokencalm,
sets the darkness echoing

Poem: The Glassworks

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The Glassworks

Because bewildered we stood
when the natural synthesis occurred
and the future flowed out
soft and molten,
too hot to recieve with
our naked palms;
because with trepidation
our awe was tempered as
we watched it billow
at the end of the blower's pipe,
our hands went to our own crafts
with more care than before -

and suddenly under
the things we fashioned, our
towers of words, our houses rough-hewn,
something shone enigmatic - not terrible, yet,
that we could see,
but we whispered more, and when
we danced among ourselves in our spacious rooms
a certain fear clipped our movements, drew closer
our limbs:
we were thinking of what we had seen.

And they built factories
on the black hills just south
of the city,
and the sun rose in those windows: they
blazed orange in the mornings; from the thin stacks
steam blossomed like flowers
if the sky was a field.
Men came and tilled the earth -
they sowed beads of glass after them
and gleaming buildings rose
to puncture and scrape heaven -
we stood watching in our valley
and we didn't dance anymore.

Because trembling we stood
as factories built factories as
factories made men to
build pillars of light;
because on the hills to the south
our history was a postscript,
our present an interlude
before a brighter intercession;
because out of sand and heat
we watched our future
billow and bend,
we fell to our knees as factories built factories
turned out new ways of living,
and the things that we muttered
sounded distant
as prayer.
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