No More the Sea

 

     Even an immortal soul would expire

Before reaching the ends of the Universe,

For it is big, competing with time –

Perhaps in peril, where the

Sacred chalice filled with wine

From a cellar built from infinity,

Can bring back make believe

Deities now so desperately missing

From life,

     Oh how ridiculous the story of Man,

His chalice filled with an abundance of blood,

     He strides like king and states

He owns stoicism,

But wretchedly screams when his greed is took,

And he cannot take the pain he gleefully

Wields unto others, and declares he

Committed to compassion and ethics -

Openly lying to court the favour of peers,

 

     We are so false in all our make believe,

Peering into vacuums while states of being

Refrain the skill of living together;

To live peacefully upon a globe

Now tethered to dying,

     We will not mourn our loss,

Neither will we know it has been done,

As ghostlike as in our existence

We will continue to deceive ourselves,

Continue the denial of philosophy

And reason that can acknowledge our

One another,

     For our hatred is what now

Protracts its necessity to excuse

The kill, our kill, our end of life,

Our end of children,

Our end of children.

 

     The World crumbles

And disintegrates - like the hearts of

The few who have realization on the brow

And within their very core,

And none of those with intuitive

Foreboding want for more,

     None want to carry the toxic memory

Of murder, this waste of paradise upon

The sands of infinity,

And infinity knows this; bows an understanding

While The Universe recoils from Mans behaviour,

And as we devour This Earth and feast

Upon the flesh of our young,

     Space and time take back

The chalice, where the wine or blood

Of this humanity,

     Never again ‘touch’ the lips

Of Gods.

 

Michael J Waite 31^st March 2017.