Response to the Hollow Men

I am stuffed
With straw
Yes.
But I find myself
No hollow
Filled rather
With golden straw
That gleams
And radiates
Like sunbeams though the canopy.
Perhaps this is lost, though
We are lost
To the sunlight on the ruins.
But the broken gods
They dance in beams
And so appear to delight
In weaving the straw
That streams from the sky.
So who is hollow then
If not us?
Perhaps the brilliance lost
Stranded, without fear.
Dear Bobby*, Dear Allen**
We beg of you be kind
Forgive us, as we know not what we do,
For we are not hollow
Filled with straw
And its glow.
In the light of ourselves
Our self souls see violence
But unseeing to the lost.
We forget
About those broken gods.
And so we lie
And we die
Unopened to greatness
That spilled from you like straw
From a scarecrow,
In a long untended field,
That split
With a bang




*Bobby Fisher. **Allen Turing