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Much more becoming...
Swirling, twirling, burning, the black tide rolls over a blood red Earth…
Amidst the screams of anguish and the tears, there lies a question- why is there so much becoming, before we finally become?
I saw the light in the fog and the dead eyes with their blind knowledge, green turned blue, while gray turned black and I
wondered- why is there so much becoming, before we finally become?
She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed and I wondered how love could die and how death can eat one’s soul, consuming
all, spitting it out, leaving nothing, nothing but this question- why is there so much becoming before you finally become?
The journey ended in chaos, the chaos was me and I wandered under the streetlamps, my cold feet barely touching the cold ground,
all the while I pondered this question- why is there so much becoming, before you finally become?
…and what have I become; a soldier dressed in black, marching with the insect army, we will chew the world and make
it whole, we will drive the enemy from this hallowed ground- all the while confirming- there is so much becoming before you
finally become.
…and what will I become; wasted bones in cool brown earth, spirit wandering among these living dead, still waiting,
still waiting to become, but there is so much becoming before you finally become.
If I had not lost all hope, surely by now I would have become; become a man with a multitude of friends, all of us agreed
that God is green, worshiping his greenness because it is so green. Why did this green God turn black? Why did he turn his
back? Why did I scream for him and cry blood-red tears while he whispered my name and laughed. Why is there so much becoming
before you finally become?
The eager one was ready; ready to live and ready to die, ready to run until his breath turned blue; he scratched at the starting
line, his eyes wide, wide sky above, laughing, laughing, knowing- there is so much becoming before you finally become.
The race was run, exhausted I fell to the ground, but even as my heart began to quiet, as my sweat soaked into the dry ground,
I knew the race was not finished. I knew it had not even really begun. I knew there would be so much more becoming, before
I would finally become…
-R. Ulmschneider
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