God is dead. God remains dead.
And we have killed him.

Technology
Comfort
Conformity
Society’s greatest treasures
Revolutionizing the world
A step closer into the light
A step further away from the dream
And in this wake we have found
Gluttony
Apathy
Disillusionment
A world without vision
Or focus
Focusing on the background
When all we sought
Is left blurred
To the tightening of the retina
These useless photographs pile up
And gather dust
Becoming the only relics
To this strange world
We have built.

We walk away from these piles
Leaving trails in the red sand
Of our wasteland
Not often turning back
Forgetting
With every step the mistake
Of the prior
Until we accumulate so many trails
That our paths become mazes
Senseless patterns
Overlapping each other
Consuming us within their distortion
Bringing us back into our dream.

There is no escape from slumber
The weary body must rest
With eye lids welded shut
There is no stopping
Dreams becoming nightmares
With our hands letting go of the reins
Plummeting into
The deepening
Blackening black
And in an instance
The bottom meets the body.

There is no piecing together
History
Or culture or
Religion
With body broken
And soul burdened
The only traces of ourselves
Are imbedded
In the hard rock
Grainy substance
Felt only by
Grasping fingers
Straining for something more
Substantial than themselves
A thought
A concept
An idea
A greatness looming in the shadows
A focused image
Of what we tried to represent.

03/26/2013

Posted on 03/26/2013
Copyright © 2025 Uriel Tovar