Time positions every piece
throughout the eons long,
records our deeds
from morn till night
and every right and wrong.
The songs of ghosts who will not die
are multiplied each year.
They tell us what
we need to know,
not what we want to hear.
With dirt and dust from love and lust,
the murky waters rear
and flood the cups
of humankind
with bitter, squalid tears.
Poverty flies through people’s lives
on frayed and tired wings
while treasure mounts
in hidden accounts
to bankroll future kings.
Because every generation thinks it knows
so much more than the last,
not realizing
just how much
is forgotten of the past.
Not all is lost,
there’s still a chance
we’ll join the cosmic dance
if we step outside this carnival ride
which keeps us in a trance.
To know what you are,
is to know everything;
all that matters, is the test.
Gods? They are us, immortal and free.
And we are mortal gods made flesh.