What is left to discover
beneath these primitive pages,
this idealistic sprawl
of half-rhymes and phrases?
We have scaled the mountains
and cast superstition asunder,
we have walked on the moon
and we have learned from our blunder.
For, what can I do
to be the first ****** eyes,
upon an uncharted land,
under Jovian skies?
We have fathomed existence
to the nearest iota,
we have established society
and a deep bass of culture.
All that is left is to wait for a saviour.
A new unbelievable mind
to help us in knowing,
to give us back to the stars,
which are forever a-glowing.
All that is left is to understand,
that where we are living
is just borrowed land.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
What is left to discover
beneath these primitive pages,
this idealistic sprawl
of half-rhymes and phrases?
We have scaled the mountains
and cast superstition asunder,
we have walked on the moon
and we have learned from our blunder.
For, what can I do
to be the first ****** eyes,
upon an uncharted land,
under Jovian skies?
We have fathomed existence
to the nearest iota,
we have established society
and a deep bass of culture.
All that is left is to wait for a saviour.
A new unbelievable mind
to help us in knowing,
to give us back to the stars,
which are forever a-glowing.
All that is left is to understand,
that where we are living
is just borrowed land.
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