Stories Woven into the Future
Resting
Unposed in the arms of a shade tree
Forgetting everything for a moment
Time lapses
Calm tendencies rise
Pain dissipates in the wind.
My mind drifts...
I remember children
Born into knowledge
With memories of their elders
Absorbed by their minds
They were told stories in the womb
To prepare them
Upon eyes wide open
For the life of a god.
Woven into these stories…
The good fight
Love for ordinary people
Mistakes and scars and forgiveness
Deep physics coming alive
Where the imaginary
Is real
Secret wars and super-intelligence
Frozen skies
The truth behind the truth
About politics, religion, omens.
Plain old life
Is not for everyone
Some belong elsewhere
The world belongs somewhere else
The timeline is riven apart
History and present are distorted
The future is to be like fractured bones
Only to never mend
If the train continues along its path.
Eventually
Life will fade for everyone
We forget
And superimpose our bodies and brains
Onto the planet
Scratching it, eating it, sucking it dry
Yet somewhere these stories are passed on
A tradition
And also a hope
That something less dark
Will come about.
Unposed in the arms of a shade tree
Forgetting everything for a moment
Time lapses
Calm tendencies rise
Pain dissipates in the wind.
My mind drifts...
I remember children
Born into knowledge
With memories of their elders
Absorbed by their minds
They were told stories in the womb
To prepare them
Upon eyes wide open
For the life of a god.
Woven into these stories…
The good fight
Love for ordinary people
Mistakes and scars and forgiveness
Deep physics coming alive
Where the imaginary
Is real
Secret wars and super-intelligence
Frozen skies
The truth behind the truth
About politics, religion, omens.
Plain old life
Is not for everyone
Some belong elsewhere
The world belongs somewhere else
The timeline is riven apart
History and present are distorted
The future is to be like fractured bones
Only to never mend
If the train continues along its path.
Eventually
Life will fade for everyone
We forget
And superimpose our bodies and brains
Onto the planet
Scratching it, eating it, sucking it dry
Yet somewhere these stories are passed on
A tradition
And also a hope
That something less dark
Will come about.