Strip Them Bone Dry

Strip them bone dry Of myth And find How suddenly we all are blind For man must believe In something more than Mere measurements When all tangible visions Like twin towers fall In the audible abyss Of their faith. This self From the serpent spiraled tree Before the ashes Of the Enlightenment Fed us gall This self So longed to become What it could not see And raptured in rebellion Brooked no authority at all. I cannot subscribe To myth as my alternative To paradise But I will something Like an umbrella Under which insecurity could crawl Measure how finite It compares to the infinity Of its belief And tumble down its Babel again In utter delight To tongue the rain.