|Twilight (Image source: Internet)|
moves on and on, on the wings of clouds,
a journey on the border of day and night
in the community of the Earth and stars.
Here one can’t even touch nor is there
a room for trivialities of theories
of trade, politics and philosophies,
and of the earthlings who don’t belong
to the Earth and the Sun, living on
self-deception and squabbles blown
out of proportion, work–work–work,
work to leave glorious ruins behind.
The gods, god persons live on preaching
a hope of salvation, raise monuments
by blood-shed by the earthlings bonded
perpetually to the chains of chaos.
Blessed are the earthworms far away
from the public eye; they don’t make
scriptures or monuments out of their
shit to the legacy or lead Life astray.
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© Remigius de Souza, all rights reserved.