We wrap mythologies around our brains
Magicians' blindfolds
To trick our eyes into a certain way of seeing.
They shape and limit our trespass upon this earth
Hurtling us into conflicts of our own magnificent ill design.
Our petty grievances languish in the bowels of succeeding generations
Laying waste to the promise of an innocent child.
Only the final blunt thrust of Death's indifferent sword
Cuts through the Gordian Knot of lies
And stops our tinkering hearts
From beating.
(Previously published in Art Villa, Aug.1999)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem