Tommorow our sacred symbols;
Vacant spaces, holding together,
The meaning of purpose,
Shall be noiseless markings,
Etched unto stone, to be buried deep in time.
Tommorow, shall we be,
Fair to such fortune,
Left in the ungainly hands?
Will it suffice to savour,
The moments, when what cometh,
Never comes, and what passes, never stays.
Will the new breed of soil,
Not vie to dig,
The bones of kingdoms long lost of love,
And bite hard into its marrow,
To taste what once stirred our souls,
And fired our flesh.
If not then what have we done,
If yes then what did we do,
For who shall ask of the sun,
If what we have is false and what we had is true?
Tommorow we all shall be forgotten,
Forever and ever, till all we hold clever will never be seen; Stonehenge, Babylon, Apples of Hesperides,
Pyramids, polka dots and everything in between.