To Solomon, King David spoke: “I am going the way of all earth.” So it be the perpetuated solum to sink us into immortality. But who among flesh, that sleep with decay & dream the sleep of the dead, will not wake from this unsettled beyond in a stench of lion by the old bone fence & a heart stamping the dark till a sun decide?
To coil & flop like a snake pinned by its snout---raptor of our wasting, of our worries to squeeze breath out of thought? What king-to-be not fear the ease of ruin, the grazing fauna hidden in spoil---the void of soil & its perishing film, water of last-flora to take us out of life? Digest & excrete each david, solomon & rehoboam (thus this very loam) because nothing is left that is not everlasting?
The horror of putrescence it seems is the the shame of a naked singularity?
