The Weight of None
(ahhhh) Eight billion, nine hundred fifty-seven million,
twenty-three thousand, three hundred sixty-nine.
That was the count on the morning of the rupture.
That is the count now.
Nobody was lost.
Nobody was kept.
Free — free — free of the weight
Free of the hunger,
free of the gate Free of the body,
free of the name
Free of the morning,
free of the flame
The visitors had shown themselves in the disclosures.
They said the matter could be released into light.
They did not lie.
They did it on a Tuesday.
Now we are floating.
Everyone.
At once.
No countries,
no presidents, no mother,
no father, no neighbour,
no forest, no sea — not even nothing.
Only
souls. Only
souls. Free from the suffering,
and pointless.
Where is the point,
when there is no direction?
Who do we care for,
when we are all one?
Oh, I miss the weight of a hand I miss the door
that would not close I miss the neighbour I could not stand
I miss the ache in my toes (Lord,
I miss my mother's kitchen) (Lord,
I miss the sea)
No countries, no presidents,
no mother, no father,
no neighbour —
only souls, only souls,
free from the suffering,
and pointless.
Eight billion, nine hundred fifty-seven million… twenty-three thousand… three hundred… sixty-nine.
Nobody was lost.
Nobody was kept.