I had a guest to dinner,
It was a Nietzch ghost.
The ghost brought with him five volumes,
A stranger barring gifts in the night.
In civility i poured him tea and examined these books.
The first book was a Book of Contradictions.
A book that called for morality and peace,
But it was laid in the path of genocide and hate.
A disheartening tale of the Gott that grew to the point of oppression.
The second book was titled the Tot of Gott.
A book of the slaying of the oppressor.
The fall of the mighty by the disenfranchised man,
In its effort to cover all, the controller spread himself to the point of destruction.
The third book was the Book of Cosmic Emptiness.
A book of a speck, a book of existential glory.
It showed however grand our perspective,
We are small and empty.
The fourth book was a Book of Mirrors.
In it i saw everything and nothing.
The world around me was so clear,
But i knew nothing of myself.
The final book was the most perplexing.
Unlike the book of mirrors it was empty as the “o”.
Page after page of emptiness, lonely of words,
Save the corner of the last page which said “Your Tale”
I looked up and the ghost smiled,
A bizarre smile of accomplishment.
It took Its tea and softly rose, for the door.
It never said a word but why would it.
I wonder what my tale will be.