Posthuman Horror

We strive to conquer,
Manifests marvelously read,
Words immortalized,
Transformed to charcoal in the fire.

All while saying we walk a fine line,
Debating on city streets,
Behind closed doors,
What is right, what is wrong.

Burning roads and heaven’s vengeance,
Handed out by charitable hands,
Questing, for reasons,
Patterns in madness,
With dull blade,
Slicing pain from happiness.

Fragile and empty, mourning in memory,
Paying no mind, disregarding the world,
Beyond immediate vision,
Splitting the rainbow,
Back to black , and white.

Erecting trenches and towering walls,
For golden treasures only in our minds,
Reading gospel, built on rotten pillars,
Separating good from evil.

Infinite veil, slowly wrapped,
Forever struggling to accept,
Praying to our thoughts,
To be reforged as gods.

Cruel death but distant memory,
Spinning lies, woven to webs,
Ignoring the rules bestowed,
For we are divine.

Consequence but a possible future,
For whom do we reach,
When lines been written,
When ideas been spilled,
But immortality.

For ancient hills and scorching dust,
Ever-flowing streams, never ending seas,
Chaining self-proclaimed deity.

Where would we wander,
If Sheppard just Illusion,
Would we finally be free?

Where would we fly,
Lost in confusion,
If we were just drifting,
Would we betray our laws?

So we ascended,
Not to be bothered,
By worldly haze of gray.

So we became gods,
To be free of shackles,
We never wore anyway.