It's quiet here,
between my ears

Solitary sanctuary

Just over the hill,
past the tip of my nose,
lies a world of feudal gods.

Where, even in the Land
of Plenty of Plenties,
there is a sense of lacking.

A fear of dying
and even
blue blood
is running.

Running in circles

I cannot say,
"Like a chicken
with its head cut off"

For there is peace
in being a headless chicken
and I have never heard one squawk

The current running
is filled with much clucking

In a land that has always
been plagued with the cry,
"Bring out your dead !"

So, I await the deaths.

When only one last
describable god remains,
and it perishes from old age.

Leaving only man.

To begin again.

To limit

To name and describe

Running in circles

Can man exist without gods?

I only know that gods
cannot exist without man.

Many gods have ceased to be.

Man remains.

"For in himself
he is not god
Only in man,
does he become God"

Man shall never
take on godhood

No matter the squawking

It has been said that
God took on manhood

So, I await
the last man.

The first man.

It's quiet here,
between my ears

Solitary sanctuary


***