As Time Turns

Lose track of time.
Waiting for the next,
Whatever it may be.
Inherited promise of an inheritance
Dangles in the future, rooted in the past.
What brought us here?
Lifetimes disappear in the timeline
Of the one life with no line,
Yet like a line, with no ends.
Ex nihilo, kommt Alles.
As we wrack and wreck our brains,
Failing to understand what we understand,
It was all crafted.
Quantum by quantum,
Endless photons forged.
Space, matter, the elements beyond ken.
Understood by one.
Realized.
We fall in the middle,
Wall ourselves off from revelation,
And attempt to crawl back up the mountain we call truth,
Jumping off the cliffs at every opportunity.
Some are pulled up, thrashing, flailing, trying to fall away.
Struggling in vain.
We are anchored to another mountain.
Our fulcrum.
Two beams, perpendicular.
The center of the universe.
One moment in time determines all time,
And we stand in awe.
Our lives, so short, yet so long,
So full of suffering.
We're blind.
Life is so much bigger.
Longer.
Larger.
Slain by the sword, the writ, the ridicule,
Our army stands.
Broken, battered, buried.
We cannot be stopped.
Wars come and go, but the battle rages on,
So we think.
The back of the book is already written,
Though we can't read it from our page.
That end, so perfectly written,
So incomprehensible,
Awaits the end of our misery.
The opposite of our current life is not death.
It is ecstasy.
We seek purpose.
It's already before our eyes,
In front of our hands,
Ripe for the taking.
But we spit on it and go on our way,
So conceited and arrogant.
To believe that we are smarter than anyone else,
Too smart for a love beyond any we could hope for.
Our intellectual brutality dominates society.
We applaud ourselves for enlightenment as we slaughter our progeny,
Aztecs at a government-funded temple.
Human sacrifice for an agenda to rule all mankind.
Blood flows as we tear ourselves to pieces and devour the evil,
Gluttons for damnation.
Celebrating debauchery,
Cursing the light and making love to the darkness,
All the while complaining that we can't see.
Thus the world stands,
Turning, hurtling, burning.
The few,
Those tied to the truth,
Are dragged up along the rocks,
Weeping for equal parts joy and sadness,
While the world spins out of control.