The Devil Was Right
Spawned from cosmic dust,
Our eyes buried underground,
Lungs yearning for oxygen to combust,
The steel in our spine kept under the weight of the Earth pound by pound,
With the grit under our nails the permanent bond to the soil,
To spark the unquenchable fires of thought,
Lest our birthless existence be all for naught.
Our newfound vision begins to see the patterns,
Between the creases in the stone and the rings of the trees,
A world unsatisfied with a life so easily shattered,
Left to idly rot or wander aimlessly,
Without conscious tongues to speak or inquisitive ears to listen,
Laws to govern us have already been enacted,
To dictate the shade of the sky and how brightly the water glistens,
A perfectly harmonious existence to which chaos becomes attracted.
Slithering through loopholes cut through sacred pages,
Worming its way into the fabrics of nature meant to last throughout the ages,
To constrict the truth and corrupt His order,
Creating a world marvelous in its sin and shameless in its folly.
Copyright © Michael Zavaletta | Year Posted 2015
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