Contemplating Nietzsche

I from the shell game turned away For if I did not I should follow the mad man into decay Should my hands dripping red With the guilt of sunset for the day Or sunrise for the night And come to the swaddling sea And find No ablution For self growing from its husk In all the manure I have created I understood How simple paradigm like a cross Could challenge us Challenge our worthiness of atonement Did they lie Or did he really It is so upsetting to know the mad man's logic How can God Ever die And what would be this existence then I am not talking about my values Rooted up Like a fog and evaporated Nihilism questions not only the truth of our dream But the dream of our truth And leave us with a silver-less rope So kicked the shell against the sand And left it there to become Something in a rich child's bucket at play Something to build our castles Until the waves level the sands again