New poem by Kyle Richtig, The Soul Of The Harvest explores the concept of how the harvest gave us the world we live in today.
The Soul of the Harvest Baskets held high, - through animistic eyes - the harvesters cycle was mutual. For in days of yore, - before opening agrarian door - we entrusted the seasons spiritual. Amongst those days the souls gave praise, for all that came from the Earth; all are containers to hold and with produce coloured bold, are nourished between death and birth. Then the knowledge tree told us what could be and we learned to furrow and sew. The harvest grew - from what we knew - and ego crept out of the shadow. It took little time, for the sinister to climb and dazzle to conceal the truth. For quickly was learned: power is best earned by controlling the will of the youth. Bounty sold as oppression, all are given impression that submission equates security, the right to be served, - birth right deserved - and beneath the servants seek purity. Still the demon devours - all waking hours - as complexity grows within the beast. World new and old grow to behold the hunger of the many mouthed feast. The knowledge still grew - fuelled by the few - divorced from Earth’s desire to give and the population exploded. Root topic avoided: considering just how many should live. All economies tied to a world of divide where edible food becomes waste. Starvation for those who never chose to live in a world centred on taste. Now the agrarian beast relishes the feast of digesting the last of the Earth. We watch biodiversity die, as we question why - a challenge against our own worth - We continue our surge as lands submerge. We focus on self, satisfaction and power. But when ecology ends, - no matter your friends - all that’s left to choke on is sour.