Weaving a Thread of TAO
Among the steel armour of this age of attack.
Rocks, thrown against the wind . . .
Artillary against the down flowing water,
Bombs . . . against the patient, level earth,
Electricity . . . summoned by the ton.
Against the dark night,
Whirring of water and fan . . . against the heat . . .
Devouring the residue of a dead age.
Against the cold,
Steel and brain and fire, against distance . . .
Sound, foucsed and fired.
Into the ear against silence . . .
Engines of distraction.
Against the focus of thought,
We live in tombs, against the threat of life.
Terrified and lonely in our souls,
Smiling with the emminent satisfaction of our wants,
We have stripped the world of its cultures,
And now . . .
We all stand shivering with need . . .
Weaving a thread of TAO,
Into an armour, Against the attacking world of steel.