Parasitic as the blind intent
of a river mite
as it burrows the flesh
of its aquatic hosts,

larger than the universe
before it reaches the limits of expansion
and implodes for one more Big Bang,

smaller and far more petty
in its endless rituals
than the British Empire,

venerable as your ancestors,
ancient as the pictographs
of Sumerian glorification,

often more slippery
than the coating of atoms
closeting an amateur exegesis
on phenomenology,

purer than an elixir
strained from
the seeds of satori,

corrupt as its most
hypocritical practitioners
and proselytizers,

wiser than the owls,
slyer than the foxes,
more experienced than
the legions of Rome,

guilty as the Armies of Time
and all the one-handed
thieves in Baghdad,

bloody as the long
nightmare of history.

Appeared in my collection Surrealties

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