We are a material people

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

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

None have what the material thing has

None have what their physical counterpart has

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

Or other signs of life to speak of

Those have fought for their existence

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

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

An energy, embodied