At the Interstices

Here at the interstices,
the poets and mystics,
the dreamers wandering
across the Anthropocene
despair –

with humans at the pinnacle,
separate and alone,
apart from nature,
oh so tragically,
oh so arrogantly,
always taking
extractive capitalism
hastens the demise
of all life on Earth.
Or at least that’s how it seems.

Here at the interstices
with etheric energies swirling
the rebels and the outcasts
spin dreams out of gossamer
and craft pathways out of words.
When all voices are heard
the human/nature split heals
and the way forward clears –
with interconnected inter-being
human/non human knowings
weave beauty into the future.


23 thoughts on “At the Interstices

  1. ‘extractive capitalism’ is a great coinage – it says it all really. How bad do things have to get before collectively as a human race we say ‘Enough!’ I am pleased that in spite of this you managed to weave some beauty into the future. I am trying to do the same.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I’m glad the words ‘extractive capitalism’ worked for you. I thought they were a bit clunky to fit in a poem but I couldn’t think of more poetic way to say the same thing. ๐Ÿ™‚ Sounds like you are doing good work with you book. I feel a bit guilty that I dropped out.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Amen, friend, amen. I don’t know if the doomed dead human enterprise can or should be saved, but there is dancing to be done in the interstices, a beauty to be made into future. Well done. Good to hear from you at earthweal – Brendan

    Liked by 2 people

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