Trek Iii

I knew long ago Constellations were ancient fairytales. Carved faith before the diluting of mind; Myth was our lens when we were blind. I knew our posted pictures declared Only immitations of primordial memories. It was the knowledge that impaired My judgment; too much logic and histories. Then came the invention Of science, and God replaced by arguments That made of self a convention That was more than greed, and ligaments. They told me that stars are plasma balls, Merely sclerotic gas that enthralls The star dust longing to return again. So finetely trapped that I cannot explain The need I felt each time I pondered I was born for nothing else but the wonder Of flesh, and the rubble of feelings. So I took my trek in search of meanings: And found Man is only dust of God - O better much than that worm eaten sod!