Hold tight now,
You’ve faced eachother
It’s going to change
Don’t fall apart,
Broken bow,
Strung by another
Please make your range
But through the heart

Close your eyes and use your ears
Sound can fight or fuel your fears with its inflection
Turning hazards at the bend
Careful not to hit the end of your collection
Tunnels coming, can’t turn back
Bridge ahead surrounds your track with cold rejection
You can never cure your fear
Looking in a broken mirror at your reflection

but things always changed in a moment
when the clear nights
turned upon me
pinned my knees to the artifices
forced my eyes toward the headlights
filled my ears with the sounds of engines

i remembered who i was

as if i had become something new,
i looked down upon my world.
my eyes, i thought, must surely be
more perceptive than those of my fathers.

as the sun shone brightest on my face,
i strode tall among the fields of man,
gathering in my hands the produce of
blind, stupid, infantile humanity.

my words were lovelier than any yet,
my poems more profound and meaningful.
all my ideas were new and unthought,
and i realized the godlikeness of my mind.

with little effort i rose above the crowds,
my thoughts resounding as revelations.
i understood all that had never been before,
and my wisdom persuaded the thousands.

but when i had surpassed every aspiration,
when i had grown as tall as the heavens,
when my perception had become unmatched,
i was broken in a swift, solid instant.

a voice came down from above,
a voice i could not comprehend.
and afterward i became nothing,
my power, my wisdom became naught.

the realization left me powerless,
but the revelation left me a man,
and a single phrase echoed again,
vanity of vanities, all is vanity.

we feed our flock
in field and farm
in rain and sun
we raise our born

from grass and plant
we take our high
we feed our mind
from cloud and dust

we take our food
from beast and bird
from fish and fowl
we make our meal

of leaf and life
we tell our tale
we make our song
of land and sky

we make our cloth
of sheep and tree
of grape and stream
we make our drink

on mount and cave
we set our sign
we paint our shape
on stone and tree

we set our plate
on wood and rock
on dirt and clay
we make our home

in earth and wind
we make our mind
we shape our brain
in sun and star

we craft our word
in flow and form
in stream and light
we make our thought

by dust and rib
we make our born
we lick and sleep
by dark and moon

we pass our life
by sperm and egg
by one of two
we sleep and make

with time and light
we tell our truth
we bring our thought
with book and pen

we sing our past
with fact and prose
with word and song
we make time.