Toward Ultimate Cause

I have hoisted my opinion of a thing
Around the neck of the world; branded
My name across the face of its avatar
And O baby I will go far. What
Have I done? I have like a peaceable
Satan brought genius into the world
And am malignant only at the bending
Of a stiff narrative. And why would I,
A god among the throng, an Achilles,
Alexander, Augustus, the great me
I carry everywhere across my back
Deign to such an act? To what end?
To what gilt triumph this thick-arced bray of signals?
And you, O stranger, our having passed each
Other by, walking along the footpath before
The place in the sunlight unaware of the electric
Vibe between us, you who I loved;
You were never here were you?
O Traveller who chances upon this place
When this place is no more
What will you make of this little rip
In the black and bending fabric?
Make of these narratives, these testaments,
These accusations of consciousness?
The accusation consciousness makes against
Its audience?

© Rhett Talley 2015