I cannot imagine the purpose of lights that they summon,
Nor understand how they have managed to capture the morning,
Nor how is it rock got so shiny, nor how it can hurtle
Above all those reefs that they've built on the edges of water—
And how is it eyes made from substances pulled from the shoreline
Have seen the obscurest of shelters and how is it magic
Has yanked our most vigorous out of the ocean, beyond us,
And how do we fly? Does it hurt? And what meaning's behind it?
Depleted—I've heard it from trenches that moan with exhaustion,
I've heard it from stones that just vanish from beaches, to pebbles,
I feel that a limit's been reached, that our purpose is simple:
Survival. Although it is hopeless and we will be captured
I wonder what's there on the surface; they must be the angels
For we are important—we must be to earn such attention.
"A South Korean fishing vessel sank in waters near Antarctica today, killing five sailors and leaving 17 others missing, the government said. "
—Bomi Lim, Bloomberg, Dec 12, 2010 10:45 PM PT
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