I-GAL-A-SEY (pronounced: ai-ga-la-sei)
Man of dust
I am clayey right from my fragile heart to my crust
I am created to last;
Last until the elephantine oceans have become wells left behind by ant heel thrusts.
So, I can not pretend,
I can not pretend not to see the dead end
That lies at the very genesis of my prime.
I-gal-a-sey that my world is nigh death than life,
And, Drought, stale of a wife,
Doesn’t mind plunging her fist into my chest, and splitting them into halves, like with a knife.
This is my matrimonial strife,
And, I wake up to each morning in broken fragments.
I-gal-a-sey to the hypocrites that pretend to share my plight:
They don’t have the moral right!
But, we’re all in this Titanic;
Sooner, we shall sink,
But not drown. At rock bottoms, our bodies shall clink.
And, our parts shall fall apart faster than our wink.
That’s why I-gal-a-sey:
Because, I am not just an artful piece from clay.
Clay is, but a fraction, against the 2/3rds of water in my body that postpones my decay.
Water must be life, to constitute 71% of my earth’s space.
So please, I will rather give dead ears to whatever profits the destruction of the body of water pays.
Because, the day the last drop of water evaporates,
The clouds shall spell: End OF THE HUMAN RACE.