Eden

West-Texas-oil-fields

Eden

I suppose in my mind,
that clanks like the tiny brass gears of a broken clock,
that Eden is in the eye of the beholder.
For many,
Eden is a quantitative term.
“A place of non destructive production.”
While others might maintain,
“It is where the waters run cool
and clear the ghosts that visit and stray.”
Or  “A place where once,
at least for a time,
everything seemed right in faith and facts.”
But I have been there.
It was the noisiest place cloaked in silence I have ever been.
The Eden where need
is replaced by absolute greed.
Where hunger is fed
with solitude.
Where the meek remain meek
and the holy are not.
I have now,
I think,
travelled far enough apart
from the Eden of my past,
as viewed through the eyes of my youth,
to come to that place
where quiet desperation
is replaced by inspiration,
where “eden” is just a word,
and the wisdom of lifetimes
can be found in a song.

 


Poem began in 2010 while working in the oilfields of West Texas and finished tonight.

Satellite image of West Texas oilfields.

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