And again, it arose:
The need to shed
To strip the skin of culture off
its seed, each shred
To lay life bare, fresh,
bruised and plain
To devour it whole:
flesh and pulp,
kernel and grain.
That's the paradox, she thought -
The weight of it all.
It shouldn't be heavy - how
Silent, how small
Are the lives we lead, gently - but
How sudden the fall
When we reach the edge, at
The end of it all.
