Who is it
That lit the first flame,
On the darkest night,
Of our final day?
Who is it
That committed a heinous sin-
As the destruction of our humanity
Laid curse to all our kin.
What might become of us
As we walk blindly into darkness?
Will we redeem our begotten souls,
Or leave our redemption to the tales of old?
What burdens shall we carry?
How many millenniums will it take?
Will we succumb to our suffrage-
Or fulfill our forgotten fate?
They say it was long ago
That we crafted the glory of the gods
Stripped souls built their thrones
As we lay hollow, and broke
Dante traveled through the echelons of the afterlife
And returned with tragic tales of our irrefutable eternity
Whether we lay to waste in the River Styx
Or exist solemnly in our blissful ignorance
We conceived poetry, and literature
The likes of which the world had never seen
We told stories of prophets and fiends
All to detail our enigmatic intrigue
Unbeknownst to us we betrayed ourselves
Separate stories became separate beliefs
Bearing swords, we wrought bloodshed
Payment for prejudice, collected by grief
We led crusades, and jihads
As death of men reeked in the fields
Children were taught love, and affection
Years later, we sent them armed to the battlefields
Prophets practiced *******
Politicians purged families for power
The poor became mindless and meek
The covetous grew stronger,
as they overpowered the weak
The tales of our dreaded destiny disappeared
As our humanity crumbled before us
Our dilapidated divinity was lost to the ages
And heaven and hell, left quietly at a cusp
Perhaps we should pray, just one final time
And reach out to the heavens
For our humanity is dying...
Our beloved father, are’t thou still in heaven?
Might we still utter thy hallowed name?
Might thy kingdom come-
And your will be done?
The forsaken are many
And the gates of hell are unleashed
The oceans have turned to acid
And the earth crumbles beneath our feet
Will you forgive us our lord?
For the sins we have made?
Are we still redeemable?
Or will we succumb to the shade?
All remained quiet, for so long, we waited on his word
But the stories were stories,
and I suppose that’s all they really were.