Weaving  by  The  Poet  Mj  © 


Weaving through time

hands, minds, the techno Web

the body lived

transformed and lead.


But woe to words

that Shelly bleed

which blew on sands

and into dust…


“I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert… these words appear:

‘My name is Ramessess II, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”


So the weavers of the Reeds ‘Buandik’

to the Egyptian dreams

and times of artisans modern climes

falls away like all things

and stand and bow to the new

weaving of social connections

profiles, reviews

consciousness left in a heavenly web

and AI melds with our minds

weaving its deviances into our

pores, ‘til one flesh

And ask…

which in time

what is left

wonder on…

‘The Next’