Deus ex machina, the way of man.
Invented a rationale, to salve the conscience.
Machined animals making gods.
Let’s keep arguing until our way is clear.
Keep thinking out loud and until it makes sense.
Drag your Self through it.
The imagined, the sculpted and painted.
The written, composed and crafted.
Beware the evil contraption of language.

Webs of thought to capture a moment’s rest.
Spun for ourselves.
Wrap them up as they come.
Drink in time of need.
Spindly, sticky and gross.
Our justification is constant.
Scapegoats, and sacrifice.
All to stab the guilt.
Drown the shame.
To put regret out to the wilderness.
To start again.

Invent a better story.
Craft it more carefully this time.
The last one seemed porous.
We need to be able to stand on it.
It takes millennia to construct a monument like that.

Why forsake the fathers of our lies?
Let’s learn their stories,
And we can make them our own.
Change the tempo, add a line, strip a verse.
Modulate and harmonize.
Don’t reject it, just reinterpret.
It’ll be much easier than starting again.

Whatever works.
I’m tired
It’s almost dusk.
I just want to eat a meal, have a good sleep,
and wake feeling safe.
The same thing we wanted in the garden.
Before god-lust pricked our heart.
Echoing serpent’s words since.
All we needed is what we had.

I can’t help but hear the laughter in hell’s halls.
Tormented smirks, unsatisfied hearts.
The dead weight of empty souls.
Thinking they’re clever.
Pulling into the pit they fell into an age ago.

Photo by Craig Whitehead on Unsplash