We are a material people

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We long to touch, to feel, to understand

To experience the history of things before encountered,

Unseen to our existence, but ever present in traces,

In subtleties only subconsciously noticed

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Those things have a dignity unpresent in the things I've made

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None have what the material thing has

None have what their physical counterpart has

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Mine have no story, history, fingerprints, gashes, cracks, scars, sheens, oils, chips, dusts

Or other signs of life to speak of

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Those have fought for their existence

Withstanding elements natural and man made to lie before my senses now

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Those have earned my respect, attention, captivation, and compassion

 

Not by what I can clearly see, but by what they imply

Stories told and untold that I can never come to know

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An energy, embodied