The fractal wars
Rage, replicant, on every border.
They span stellar space
And throb quantum-close in the
Harmonic neuron-flash of troubled human hearts.
The raptured virgin yearning
For deflorescence of body, spirit, world –
A yielding up of innocence
In desperate barter
For the meteoric flame.
Her burnished eyes shimmer
In the gleam of Maybe’s dream:
She, like every other, an inevitable casualty
Of some war she doesn’t yet suspect she’s even in.
A trumpet-blast of fervor
Calls the faithful to the proximate flames:
The rife and ceaseless conflagration
That flares and ebbs across all of space and time:
Where frightened oligarchs inflict the same chains
On the same populace
For the same self-serving delusion
That always always always ends
In the same fruitless carnage.
The same deflowered hope.
In that bright moment, though,
The torch-led partisans become
More than they have ever been
More than they will ever be again –
Exceed their very possibility
To burst the boundaries of the dream.
They, then, are the flame:
Radiant and consumed.
The virgin, strong among them,
Blends her voice in theirs
And consummates her blaze across the sky.
She sighs a wistful sigh.
Someone let slip a thoughtless word;
Someone’s eye strayed out of bounds;
Someone’s lover loved less than lover’s needs.
Young and ageless, fragile and invincible,
She steals a tender moment between battles stampeding
Down the corridors of her ruined world.
She gently dabs a tear, a drop of blood
From some brother’s eye, some sister’s wounded brow –
Then rises to rejoin the microscopic or macroscopic battle:
Replicant, if altered, in every room of this embattled house
What chance is there for her or such as her?
in this perdition of a cosmos.
She, like all of us, damned by our dreams,
To rage eternal slashing at the dark.
– Porfiry Esteban Suayd