On our own Time


Where are our thoughts of tomorrow?

Ripped away

like tattered remains

of flesh and skin

on old bones

of long dead soldiers;

monuments to a forgotten war.


Lives laid down

in row upon row

for the sick hearts

and wicked desires

of powerful and corrupt men.


Where are our thoughts of yesterday?

Trapped in a dream state,

an unformed idea.

A being not yet seen,

but heart beating.


A life,

both impossible and unimaginable,

but still allowed

to open its eyes,

draw breath,

and change the universe.


Where are our thoughts of today?

Mired in our discontent,

mind conquered,

to hearts enslaved.

Yearning to fill

every hunger,


and ego.


Thinking that we know so better.

Terminal characteristics

of the short lived,


So eager to believe

in the absolving power

of a human life,

but not the sacrifice.


Time moves on,

but not in the way we hope.

Past, present, future

are less linear,

more field-like.

Desperate beings

caught up in the angry waves

of forces we could

intimately control,

but we chose not to.


Begging for a savior.

A new hope,

a new blood-pact

with a god

of our own time.



HG – 2021

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