When all history comes and goes
In the blink of an eye all is unknow
Able.  From dream to dream with
out beginning or end, and all would
Be well but the mad men who tell
Us what is and is not positing more
And more complexity proclaiming all
The while they are the saviors of
Mankind.  It is a great burden, a
Travesty of truth; unbelievably
Cunning.  So the dream ends in
A crucifixion.  Love is dead.  God
Is no more.  On the bright side
Thank God it is finished and you
Return with  no remembrance of
Things past to make you smarter.