Let us console you.
Music’s the answer.
Of course, we’re caught
in this sphere
where it doesn’t much matter
whether our song reaches
the ear of Prometheus or not.
He’s adamantly chained
to the mountaintop.
Every morning, there’s eagle,
a beak and a claw on the back.
Such an ache. Somatognosis
is the sixth sense.
What does it feel like
to inch one’s way forward?
These are the questions.
Dawn on its knees
crawls toward knowledge.
More of us are coming.