Another Time

As the thief of life ticks on, and the day to leave approaches
The fleeting ghost of wild belief, considers its reproaches
It questions why life came here; to this dream that lingers on
Was man supposed to grasp the rise, of the many, to the one?

All become engrossed, on a journey never chosen
Blank memory on arrival, when no request was spoken
Making of it what they can, feeding self-illusion
Some men say they've found a way, out of life’s confusion

And the vicar in his fancy dress, quite unfit for purpose
Trudges round his dogma dream, consumed by pompous surplus
As the beggar, still in need of friends, wanders to the edge
Wondering if to jump could break, life’s unspoken pledge

Mean-time in its boredom, the suppressor of Gods wishes
Camouflages every clue, to the trick of loaves and fishes
And ticking on with no reverse, the cogs of change rotate
Encircling all indulgent souls with the rusted chains of fait

Still, on goes the motion, of each respective age
Never backing down in time, from turning the next page
Now more are born to perish, in a flourish of the breath
The only thing they'll really own, on this warn road to death

Was your wish on entry, to carry knife and gun?
Or was it just to revel, in optimistic fun?
Was the choice you made inherent, rooting out the holy seed?
Or was the death of others, your dark and lusty need?

Maybe there is a clue, to guessing your demise
Are you true to your own conscience; is your nature wise?
Then what if fearing holy wrath was myths begotten error?
And he who really judges you, stares back from your own mirror?

© Steve Bentley