MACROCOSM
Macrocosmic bits of data,
An entire world to us, to it a spec of dust.
Macrocosmic giant mind,
To us a burning ball of gas, to it small elements that build upon its mass.
Driving down the road I contemplate that all that is around me is built of such small things,
Little specs of light with electron swarming rings.
And I have a thought that goes not away,
A thought that yet persists,
Taking in all of this,
This that should not possibly exist.
Though in our brief existence,
The present shapes the future that is built upon the past,
All the things that we know now will only shortly last,
Just to be long lost and forgotten much like the nature of our origins.
Things just never stay the same,
And matters always change,
Structures always re-arrange,
And there will always be information to exchange.
I’ve reach across time and space to visit one specific place,
If I could give you any hint, it is alien and strange.
We live and live we do exist,
But almost never use our gift,
Do we never stop to think;
Why we are or how we are,
We’ve come to our own conclusions,
But never stop to think of What we are or how bazaar it really is;
To live to breath,
To think to see,
To contemplate reality,
To die or grow,
But never know,
The way that things should really go;
They lie to you and me,
Mind warped consensus reality,
Oh how they lie to you and me!
This so called democracy, a hypocrisy,
What a sad sick joke.
You live you work, consume then croke,
Breathing in the smut that we produce our future kin will surely choke,
And the world will take a toll.
If only you could see,
Through the hate and greed,
Peace and love a life stress free,
THIS IS WHAT WE REALLY NEED!
Lies and lust pornography,
Racist fools are what we breed!
Ignorance stupidity,
How can a slave to money call himself free!?
A corporate society,
The future as I see,
They control our lives,
With a commercial destiny.
But as we become more alien,
We live and live and we exist,
But never stop to use our gift and think;
Why we are or how we are,
Or what we are or how bazaar,
It really is,
To live to breath,
To think to see,
To contemplate reality,
To die or grow but never know,
The way these things should really go.
December 17, 2005 -Jeramie Griffor |
