We are only dust in the wind...? Agreed that nothing we do is as important as we think. Original I'm not sure about, there are only the same themes remade, because humans like what they know, not know what they like. You have some old ideas perhaps expressed in new ways, and your use of language is lofty and somewhat unique. But if poetry is the language of the soul, I could close my eyes and see what you are saying in my imagination. Maybe too much information keeps this one reeling in my mind and my soul is slow and doesn't follow along. Thanks,
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, but being human is to invent our own meaning for what we do with each moment of our lives. your poem did nothing to cheer me up on a cold wet morning.Too many big words. Not that I can't understand the big words - they just give your poem a certain flavour. They make it distant and philosophical instead of immediate and gutsy. Being a keen gardener, your cooling in the compost image doesn't work for me. It produces a brain niggle-query because for me, compost heaps are hot places with all the heat of bacterial action. Do you know that they can sometimes catch fire with their own generated heat?
Man as his own worst enemy? There are a couple of lines where you use "the" twice, one is the intro, which could be condensed to "These daily epiphanies" and "The constant is the trickery" could perhaps become "consistancy is the trickery" but that may change your meaning. You might break a few of the longer lines, I think the ideas lend themselves to more breaks. In the line starting with "Dogma..." you might drop the "and" breaking the line there and starting anew with "we rise with will again" (Nice sonics, you wascly wabbit) Hope this is helpful. Take care, Dave