We, upon the mountains high.
As blades of sun strike the sky.
Alone in our insanity.
Reflecting on humanity.
This thread between beast and god.
Found a way, the road untrod.
Our faculties have gone astray.
Our graciousness has gone away.
Employing godlike potential.
Conquered all that’s consequential.
‘Specially a higher power.
What’s left for us in this hour?
A gaping hole from that killing.
A gaping hole that needs filling.
Sate with ideology?
New forms of theology.
But more tenuous is its hold.
That type of worship has grown old.
Whistled past a real creator.
Feeble quests for something greater.
The road untrod is long and hard.
The few thereon are proud but scarred.
Burned off all that had to go.
Scarred by self and now they know.
Most will perish by that road.
What a fate that’s been bestowed.
Those who think this life’s a curse.
Worry not, it gets much worse.
Once you see . . . in that instant.
This larval present will seem so distant.
A burden on this time complex.
A key to the door for what’s next.
Most frightening feature of your soul.
Contains the key to be made whole.
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