Creator

My friend –

When will this poisoning end?

Creators of

An imaginary ‘race’

We christen it ‘human’

But that’s not the case.

Rather it’s our undoing

Our divinity in ruins

Washed into the sea

Once more

Dust upon this well worn floor

Our fingerprints are all over

These gaping holes we create

And spend our lives trying to fill

When there’s nothing there to sate

While society forms
These artificial layers

Artificial stature

And artificial cares

And an over-complicated economy

That cannot hope to survive

Instead drains us like a vampire

Until there’s no way we can thrive

While we shout hoarse “Hallelujahs”

And try and bluff the One who’s Supremely Aware

Who watches the world quietly humming

With a serendipitous stare.

                                     ---unAsleep