Terminus (Oooh)

Terminus

For most things we fantasize
And let our minds linger in dreamland
Waft over lands covered in locusts

To be young again and vicious
I'd recount flame and embers
Heaven would open with the chorus proceeding

The four horses have come and gone
And my eyes are drawn open with strings
Of wonder, dazzled by such august bodies

For a thousand years we'd heed the call
Toiling to prove our devotion
Nervous of the lake, brimming with deadly fire

Soon to be heaped upon with souls
Invigorated by hate and aghast in pillory
No easy floating in this devouring body of water

But now I see farther than the eyes of a child
And can devise such different ends than before
The earth is no longer flat, our minds, our bodies round
With knowledge and ripe with fortune's blessing - imagination



Perhaps in fear we cling to myth
But in boldness I lunge for the unexplored
To discuss new myths before they are tired and worn

Evolution, already relegated to the dusty word, theory
Is swiftly fading into the less possible, less plausible
While Intelligent Design, renamed (Creation) from old springs forth

What of man made endings; shall we encourage such a thought?
An implosion of will, as the last starship floats freely away
The stations full of mournful people, the world is over - but not done.

Looking past the debris, the shock, of a planet,
Its heady purpose filled to the end
Towards something further, bright Mars, dark Pluto - another beyond

A blast of rocket fuel, a pulse of proton, and the pull of an electron
Shall we ignore such pretenses of science as exploration?
Deluding ourselves to death, destruction, and such a low base?

I could foresee an armada of life, trundling forth
A wealth of investment, humanity, brandishing a sword of unity.
Would it not be glorious to foretell such an event?
To feast upon a table laden with goods so sweet and full – would be heaven.



As the deliberate and loving amongst us swell with pride
I must announce my disdain, my intolerance of arrogant righteousness
Do we not recall the days of morality enforced by the sword?

Whether it be Romans, Muslims, or the lash of the Inquisitors whip
Does dogmatic conscription of forces make valid the sins?
We won't have an armada in the stars, but an armada in the seas

A flotilla of death, spewing decisions of disease
Marched forth by legions of Morality, righteous in their deeds
That is the Circle of Life we've embraced, look around my fellow man

Do you see peace? Even a week, nay, a week where anger does not win
Would be a week of paradise, unvisited upon our earth.
Your faith makes your actions true! True to you, I must say.

If I sacked a city and called it Justice, and you called it Murder
Does invoking His name undo the sin? Or only if you agree does it render it so?
In writing of the Kingdom of God, what of the floods? The end of the wicked!

Yet more were born. And in being born, were wicked. Wicked children sprang upon us.
Oh so many feel the pity for the savage, the dancing fire, and the dirty water.
But the pity falters when they refuse to budge. Come to the light you beg, they reply
We are in the light, we are in the darkness, and we see your tricks - again, your tricks.

Oh, the end, a mesmerizing topic and lengthy discourse required
But the question is in the answer. That’s where we visit with our Devil.
Believe or disbelieve, worship or wane, practice or desert the cause

In the end, I’ll flail with you, in the world under heel.
Where nations grew and toppled, ruled with appeal
Till the rudder broke and the wind stopped giving praise

Then we fought, the tide too strong, the waves force to much to appraise
To no avail, we were ground into the rocks, our country, our world, bit by bit
With energy and focus, taken to task, to account for the past.

If we began with words in space, an explosion of science, or a luck filled pond
We’ll end in horror.
War marking our passing, toxic lands being our answer to arrogance.

Tomorrow won’t see us flounder; our children will see the light of the sun fully
Centuries pass like blinks to a passel of generations, while morality enables the churn’er.
Mixed enough we’ll blend, and blend enough we’ll force ourselves apart.

Force atoms apart and we’ve seen Hiroshima.
Force religion apart and we’ve seen New York on a fine September day.
Force us together, to be close, to be the same, to be one
For the end, we’ll find ourselves making a final push, to be apart – once again.