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