Cotton, Steel and Plastic.
All you have known is gold.
The silver spoon of a mobile
You hold like a new born
Of importance – beyond life,
Of depth – beyond God,
Of people – but nothing.
All that is memorable
Is the braid.
Plaited to the wrist,
Your means of breath,
Has become your delusion of oxygen
It’s irony of non-air is like the poisonous Fumes Of Old.
All I have known is cotton, steel and plastic.
Of a brother’s failure,
Of a sister’s pain,
Of the self, forever before me.
Temptation by the now is everywhere,
But I cannot forget what I have seen.
Your shallowness is my nausea,
And I will be judged for judging,
But so be it.
For my heart tells me you are wrong
And this I cannot ignore.
Other things I might,
But this, I cannot.
Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 68sec / 534kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1994