Member-only story
Who Seldom Dream
The illusion of progress
Our Zeus sits on his fetid throne
Leagues above the howling minarets
Above the clouds dividing men from gods
And gods from men
In vaunted palaces never seen
But dreamt of by those who seldom dream
These gods, we would suppose are wise
Because they sit above the world
Calling check mate on our pawny kings
A dozen steps ahead
Soaked in history, wise because they’ve seen it all before
Inured to the insanity of war
Isolated from the sordid earth
Where bugs and microbes make their home
Where death meets birth in rhythmic dance
And earth meets sky through fog and mist
Where humanity dreams and children cry
Because we wonder at the sky
And so the men who seldom dream
Look to the gods
They seek a road that only climbs
That has no picnic stop or Greasy Spoon
They seek a road that does not bend
A road that has a start and end
