To dream of wonderful things…

To scheme, dreaming of what is to be…

To scheme –

Somewhere at the edge of everything

Where the dream stirs and wallows,

The dreamer that dreams of many things,

Who hopes and prays and calls out

To the old voices in his head

Long dead – unremembered.

What was then was then,

Old, abandoned, forgotten…

In a time when days were quiet

And life had meaning – purpose,

When things simple, less complicated,

When men thought of words to inspire,

When men sit on old chairs

Chin on hand, swimming in thoughts…

What was then was then

In the age of discovery –

An age of magnificence!

And here he is, now, in this age of new ideas

Basking in knowledge – basking in fear…

He held his innocence for so long,

So long that he could not remember anymore,

Now scheming – schemed…

His innocence forever lost in shame,

He is the forever dweller

Wandering in the places that once were,

Now are not –

Ideas that swim in madness…

Life perplexed with complexity,

He is the forever dweller

And his arrogance rises beyond humility.

So now it comes to pass

The life is beyond what it was

And it will forever be

Lost in innocence, grasping the stars with bare hands…

Cruel and arrogant world!

He is god of the things that he made,

No more dreams

For dreams are for children

And he is no child,

He is the forever dweller –

Touched by madness

A twisted righteousness

In this world he claimed for himself…

Where he is god.