Watching the crowd I ponder
On all the crowds that came before,
Since the first chimps gathered
Ignoring what they might become,
And I question, ‘Does this crowd know?’

Demonstrating for peace, mourning the victims,
Demanding revenge, ‘obliterate’ another crowd,
‘**** ’em all, none of ’em are me friends!’
Chaotic and confused, do they even attempt,
Meditating on who they are growing into and might become?

Depictions of crowds in history take me back
On the timeline of our journey, when **** habilis
Came to be erectus, grouping under a shelter
Protecting fire to survive, evolve and develop.
How would he consider humanity today? Would he understand?

And what would early Sapiens think if he saw us?
Would he renounce the exodus from Ethiopia?
A crowd in search of new spaces to call home
Exploring the marvels of its curiosity and potential.
Would he turn around and spare us the distress of future conquests?

And when the last Neanderthal and Floresiensis died
And skins began turning light, anthropology to recognise
The survival of one and only **** genus species,
Sapiens all worldwide, how did it forget who he was and where he came from?
How did it, or we, end up fighting each other out of fear and greed?

When did life stop being enough?
When did our mere existence stop
To bewilder us in marvel and delight?

Two point one million kilometres per hour
Is the speed at which we flow, in Space
As we live our exotic eventful lives
On seemingly motionless grounds
Firm and solid beneath our feet.

One thousand six hundred seventy five
Kilometres per hour is the speed of those grounds,
A spherical dancer pirouetting endlessly to enlight
The marvellous show alternating day and night.
Rotations we do not feel, dizziness incomplete.

As speed is constant, momentum numbs
Our senses, though it is unable to deceive
The winds and ocean currents, only tangible proof
Of our movement, incessantly blowing and running
Yet bound to Earth for neither to escape.

Air deflecting between high and low
Pressures, to move extra heat elsewhere,
Balancing temperatures, to talk about the weather,
Offering seasons to render
Our terrestrial little planet an inhabitable one.

Elegant harmonisation, Coriolis Effect,
Universe orchestrating sophisticated laws
Setting the rare conditions, for wind to blow,
For us to exist.

I was officially born in the 17th century.
My homeland was England.
My parents were many.
They conceived me in coffeehouses.

I was officially born in the 17th century,
When the crowns of Scotland and England united,
When James VI, King of Scots,
Ascended to the throne of England as James I;
When civil wars between roundheads and cavaliers
Ended in Parliamentary victory,
At the Battle of Worcester.

I was officially born in the 17th century,
At the time of Interregnum,
Commonwealths, Glorious Revolution,
William and Mary
and the English Bill of Rights.
Reformation and proliferation of literacy:
People learnt to read the Bible,
Then chose to be curious and explore,
Secular literature and novels
In circulating libraries.

My parents were many.
They conceived me in coffeehouses,
Scattered around the city,
Spread throughout the country,
And finally reached abroad:
Another Revolution,
on the other side of the Channel.

My parents were many.
They met at intellectual bacchanalia,
In reading societies and clubs,
‘Cause that’s where news was communicated.
Freely criticizing politics and governments,
They engaged in conversations
in an environment of confrontation,
Social status set aside,
To listen, exchange, formulate,
Understand and comprehend.

Another William called me ‘mistress of success’,
Blaise thought I was ‘the queen of the world’.
Being well informed and debate in social networks
Was a duty, before being a right,
As my parents’ opinion would guide the rulers,
Ideally in the interest not of few, not of many,
but of all.

First heeded by governments,
They quickly learnt to manipulate me,
They muzzled me and domesticated me,
Taking away my freedom and relevance,
With the unofficial excuse by which
My parents were too ignorant
to even have a voice.

Now those coffeehouses have changed their shape,
Intangible, virtual, ethereal,
New spaces for new parents
To develop ideas, opinions,
And exchange;
Not currencies or stocks
but information and views.

I am my parents’ voice,
My name is Public Opinion.

When ancient Greeks dwelt upon notions
Of matter and its nature, formulating philosophies
Of physics to grasp and get a glimpse at the Universe,
A single common inspired idea, bound them all in reflection:

‘Nothing comes into existence from nothing’.

There had to be eternal surviving basic elements unable
To be created or destroyed, continuously mutating to underline
Apparent change, while composing all that ever was, is
And will be. Omnificent and omnipresent in a godly manner.

Evolution laying the grounds for rare creatures
To grow into great thinkers, ponder and observe,
Empirically prove the facticity of these elements,
Philosophical atoms, scientific elementary particles.

Notes on the elegant musical score
Orchestrating the Universe, its dance and its laws.
Indivisible, matter reduced to its core
Permeating space and everything within.

This basic notion twirls in my head
Pervading my being with the awareness of its substance:
I am part of all that exists and with it,
I share my essence.

A consequent conscious feeling of unity
With the Universe, all that exists and the humankind.
A sense of inevitable peace,
While accepting to be a part of it all.

Harmonic realisation that combined we are
Nothing more and nothing less
Than the Universe becoming aware
Of Itself.

Evolving human
Surrounded by colours,
Gentle grins provoking last
Enduring glances of suspicion,
‘What have they to smile?’

Unfamiliar green-carpet
Streets and glowing faces,
Sounds of unusual happiness
Inundating land, echoing
In the calm unsuffering seas.

Dark elegant suits knit
With gold and silver threads,
In disuse.

Lost briefcases enshrining
Carbon-stained paper sheets,
Unowned, unwanted, and unneeded.

Trees no longer afraid.
May the souls of their ancestors
Rest in peace. Memory does persist.

Sober fancy ties around
Chocking blue necks,
Thrown away.
White collars freeing from chains.

Unleashed,
What was, forgotten.
Forging truth in history
No one teaches,
Lies of imaginative deceptive minds
No one learns.

Red once-fashionable high heels
Buried with garbage, along with
Addictive games and batteries
Creating manmade hills,
Offered to nature as Trojan horses
Waiting to astonish.

While flowers bloom
And wilderness takes over,
Evolving human wonders
‘Where have I been until this moment?’
And smiles.

I think my emotions have gripped me enough,
My heart can only beat so slow.
The fear has made me an incomparable waste,
The kind I wish I didn't know.

My fear to fail, my worry to rise,
The final fall out of line
Has shook my bones, I don't want to feel alone,
I want to try to be fine.

I'm scared I'll fail, I'm scared you'll laugh,
But isn't that what's wrong?
These moments wont last forever,
Why haven't I realised, I wont last forever,
It's time for this chapter to be gone.

In truth, I am terrified of this body—
I am terrified of what I put in it
and of what eventually comes out.

I worry repercussions are at hand—
there will be consequences in the near future
because of what I’ve put into this body,
and it will no longer be mine
by the time I die.

But, maybe soon, if I’m lucky,
I will evolve,
I will break out of these
naturistic characteristics,
I will survive natural selection…

I will spread my wings
and take my first flight.

You sit patiently
            in the back of my mind;
A cold and barren place,
            but safe
      from the monsters I made.