Literature as Epitaph for Humanity

Literature seeps, reaches our immortal,
species' Seed-sprouts; tapping our primordial.

Voice shuns Desire's cold, written speech--
Words painting bright, our species waning bleak;

Voice tastes not, the news'  conversations:
Tonque licks, the olds'  tribe-relations.

Soul sighs! Timed-strewn, voice-pearls form.
Through mind-heart will, our species reborn

Human being's scrawled, Earth-speech?  
Epitaph for Soul, long breached.



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