One of them

Photo by Rezal Scharfe on Unsplash

I was one of them
The countless crowded single blades,
Bowing in their direction
And yielding to their breezes.

I became the landscape
Bleak and infinite,
An undistinguished thread
Of the eternal cloth.

Once I was the shepherd
Then became the cattle,
Holy still but without sense
Meat for their consumption.

That acrid perfume haunts me
Taints the greying breath,
With the recollection
Of colour and volition.

I am with the currents
Those that drown my voice,
And dismiss my protestations
But I was one of them.