Sunday, May 16, 2010

Heavens are Far

Men come and then they're gone; 
Haven't even the Gods dwindled? 
Some are now a part of the lore, 
Others, just a dot, unknown, of yore. 

Yet, for things that are but a wraith; 
We kill, we rape, and thus, we declare our faith. 
But only to the ones feeling, 'tis a crime; 
To the ones dealing, these become acts sublime. 

And so, what will become of the promised lands; 
When we as victors reach there? 
Having already made one as hell; 
Isn't it time, to stop — and think what we're trying to sell?