Tower of Babel
Written by the wisest of man
The reign of loss; the age of sand
Ancient scribes search in their hearts
For what will be once they depart
The course is vain, carved by self-need
The river flows from beauty to greed
Gods of love detached from their sight
Excuses now to murder the light
Wisdom knows the pleasure that sings
In the minds of desperate things
Just one pretext and all would collapse
Into the world which they are now trapped
Open eyes scanning for sight
The darkened mass creating the night
The ashen blood coating their dreams
In which they laugh for lack of true sleep
A world of one, Babylon’s pride
The tower formed, pleasing their lies
The wakeful flow with passion unhinged
But love is caught and numbed by syringe
Written now for the wisest of those
That may awake from forceful repose
A guiding star upon inner truth
Awake to strength or find it removed
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