Time Is The Ziggurat
P Patti Masterman
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Time is the ziggurat that collapses,
When all the people have come in to pray;
And I worshiped at the base
And I honored all your faces,
But of your once-caring I can find no trace.
Space is the fold of long enduring,
Keeping me well away your side;
Truths so rare that we gave up searching
In your temples so far and wide.
Life is the rite of passage, unspoken,
Rift that's between the now and then;
And once upon a dream
We saw it's lightnings gleam,
But we can't remember how far back when.
Space is the fold of long enduring,
Keeping me well away your side;
Truths so rare that we gave up searching
In your temples so far and wide.
Death comes at the end;
To claim our carcass,
And nobody waits
To hold your hand-
If you died alone,
It would not be stark as
Living life too afraid
To make a stand.
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