Creation Myth


Wounded by expectations.

No bitter words,

just long travail.

Simple sets of integrated systems,

soon become our complicated tale.

Never wind the springs

that set the clock

to gears turning.

Time escapes every one

of us.


except for time,

a piano wire

strung across the finish line.

Work of our bodies.

Tasks of our hands.

Our vision falls from Heaven

and lands

on anything that we can call,


Funny little creatures,

venerating our creations.

Smiling at anything

we think

resembles what we are.

When we don’t even know

where we come from,

what we’re doing here,

or who we’re supposed to be.

Connected to everything,

but as ignorant as it gets.

Brilliant in our own way,

but immune to common sense,

much less divinity.

Much less creation.

Confused about our purpose

and our station.

Wind us up

and watch us go.

Out along the timelines,

blindly into the unknown.

So easily hurt,

and quickly manipulated.

Constantly conned

into the overcomplicated,

so much that we think

that we understand.

Just a bookmark placed

for things we can’t comprehend.


fumbling our way

back up to Heaven.



DJR – 2023

Leave a Reply