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
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