One crystal goblet cloaked in vintage dust
Stands silent sentinal to nothing
In the middle of a great stone alter
Laid to waste by time, and the memory of Man,
Who ever was a firm believer...
One crystal goblet remains a fruitless legacy.
Ancient tongues and politics hear nothing
But the echo of the emptiness;
Gather rhetoric slowly
To the corners of each nameless mouth
As testimony to the truth
In all its convolutions...
(So easy to save face when you have two)...
In secret chambers sullen and discordant
Hushed reminders turn forgetful
In the silence of neglect and need --
Sightless in the face of greed.
Retire the ages bound in blood red leather,
Dry as ancient children's bones;
Passing immortality promises worth of no value -
Wealth beyond a life of fading passion
And accumulated years......Power:
One percent of Power;
Power to those who once danced here
For unrepentant Gods of War...
Starving for their golden Kings;
Starving for each and every thing.
Death is their lament; no blessings ever fell
To split the night asunder.
In ecstacy's deepest trance reviled
They danced around a dark and bloody alter --
That crumbling pedestal where upon resides
One crystal goblet of wild perfection
Shining claret to its fluted rim
And guarding nothing but its own beauty...
Rejoice in nothing but its own fullness,
Beyond the bitterness of truth abandoned.
And in that fullness, only dust...
Simply dust and full of nothing for our children's children.
Crystal goblet politic still lingers on
Or for a few eons more of lies
Trapped in that darkness...
And history always makes us pay
In dearest cost - in every way
For crystal goblets...
One percent lead
Ninety nine percent ahead
Of living memory...