Gods

time flows by like rivers on a landscape seen through billowed, diaphamous drape if that is me, my life and time why is it that i, striving still ,ever climb to find a hill to see across there where i may never be, to know, why do i care seeking to know more, more unhappy with my here for that river, those drapes, those colors far yet dear near...and yet forlornly far the other side, that wish upon a star to see, to see across eternity to see it all, this world of mine and yet i find looking beyond this little shore up on this hill of grass and trees, life and more i stand on shoulders i should hug yet can't find it in me to shrug it matters! it matters! till those drapes are dusty tatters and the room beyond hollow, empty, and alone and the Gods dethroned and flown this hill, and that, pallettes of angels mixed that river, 'twixt and i, a hill, high up, and yet quite low will not see, as don't we all, that God before we go