Human Hill

Heartfelt particles remain
to captivate the stage of ants
that preform an old play which
seamlessly co-ordinates
itself into a seen farce;
The sinister hang mans joke
correlating and mimicking
on what they have become;
So one noble trip, or
tangling, maybe rethreading
or cutting the tangible
ribbons of ones essence
to induce a sense of working
relevance.

To be idol Gods in an ideal,
a spear of destiny
in the wheel of enlightenment
that jolts and halts the ever
changing tide of society
momentarily,
whilst still remaining to
be utterly unimagined.

To build a cathedral
out of a thousand ant
sacrifices while
they spasm out for the old play
that they previously, unknowingly
tap-danced
through
so a generation
will continue
it all again.