They tell me its a new year
That there was some mysterious change or birth
Of common time, that this body fragile
With the wear of turbid life
Slopes closer towards an unknown millennium.
Waht did Nostradamus say
And all the sage and mystics who are peeled
From the fruits like a pear from its skin
Leaving the vulnerable flesh to fetch the bite
Of worms wriggling that crawl within
What did the Holy Christ and his apocalyptic Revelation say
Where is the beast and in what palace
What town, what place, the Herodless generations
Shall tumult to decay? No more
Myths, no Los Ninos nor bending space
Time is the endless going and coming until our death
Earth the same old cycles make.
This mind has carried the Babel of collective thought
Long enough, it must bloom its own flower
To grow its own tree for the sun's simple fire.