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A Poem from Stephen Harrod Buhner

Post Series: Poetry Thursday

When we allowed
science to convince us
that there is no soul
or intelligence in matter,
the Earth’s physical forms
became only cemetery markers
showing where spirits once moved
through the world.
The autopsy
of the material world
then began in earnest.
Its dissected parts
now litter the landscape
and we walk, depressed,
among lifeless statuary,
only accidental lifeforms
on the surface of
a ball of rock
hurtling around the sun.

The metal gate is unlocked.

Other kinds of flowers
nod in the sunlight
outside that wrought-iron fence.

-A poem from “The Secret Teachings of Plants”, a book by Stephen Harrod Buhner

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