Early days
I find myself
Standing
Next to an unstable shelf
A black and white pantomime
Exponentially growing
One toe
Away
From the entrance
To purgatory
What a precarious way
Into that vicarious void
I find myself
Looking
Without any help
Away
Searching for remnants
Of legends and dreams
Representing a pilgrimage
From colonies
Of heaven
Within that mystical image
Are prayers
Hounded by difficulties
Every rocky challenge
Centuries of similar layers
This human story
After
Human story
Every cult
Every colour
Whatever shape
We wish
To take
What a cost
This reckoning
What kind of finish
Can there be redemption
Or is everything lost
That particular void is beckoning
Consummate consumption
If we're strong enough
With some convention
Although life is tough
Perhaps we will rise
With some other invention