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Don't just accept what cannot be proven, perceptions change as does the truth when discovering it.
By Tony DeLorger © 2014
From whence did I come,
from what marrow born of beginnings,
shackles my bones to some divine nod,
some alien intention millennia passed.
What lies beneath my skin,
my DNA forged from what kind of life,
what primordial brew,
viewed and judged inadequate,
to be manipulated into human.
What carries my bloodline,
from other worlds, far beyond my comprehension,
and who dwells upon me, considering,
whether or not I have been worth the venture.
The Gods came from the heavens with guiding hands,
giving us the tools of civilisation: religion, medicine, architecture and science,
to aid our course in the survival of our kind,
while they observe and debate our future or annihilation,
our value to existence and to our planet.
We, the progeny of so called Gods,
who fashioned us in their own image,
and gave us a thread of knowledge,
to see what would ensue.
And still we are lost in the processes and beliefs fed to us,
given as a pacifier to appease our paltry intellect and questioning,
to hold onto some hope in our delusion,
while they deliberate our usefulness,
our right to life.
How wanting we must appear,
in our maudlin over-reactive insecurities,
clambering for some truth, some real origin,
to justify our worth and purpose.
Those who created can destroy,
and at their whim we remain,
waiting to be saved from ourselves,
our dark imperfections ruling reason and deed,
in the unlikely hope of winning a war without victory.