Discord

Some Stories must be Told

& this is one such Tale.

Of grandfather the Wulf

&

The Garden of Eden,

Breeding pen,

That it was.

Bred for what Though,

Slaves to Mine

&

Rape the Earth,

our Mother.

Are we not Her children,

Does not Intellect alone,

Separate us

From our

Brethren

the Beast.

The Titans told it True,

For we were Bred

& Domesticated,

not to have

any Natural

Means of Defense,

but our Mind,

again

Why.

To Covet

First the Apple

& then

thy Brothers',

For then

& only then,

did They know,

We were ready

To be

set Loose

upon

the World?

Darwin Traced it True,

Water

the Origin of our Species.

For Silver

& Gold

do not Tarnish,

Lovely are they to Behold.

The Brothers Cain

& Abel,

For Thought/After Thought,

the Parody still Humors me.

We had to Shed our Skin/our Defenses,

The Snake you Say.

For what Differentiates

Us

From our Brothers the Beasts,

the Ability to convey Thoughts

& Actions,

the Word.

Do we not Domesticate Livestock?

Institute Breeding Programs,

Do we not School Beasts.

To do

What we cannot

Or do not

Wish to do.

Could we,

Not be

Set upon

the Same Tasks?

Do all the Old Stories tell the Same Tale?

What a Story that would be?

Would it Tell of our Origins

& our Rise?

Would it tell us Why,

the Same Motifs,

Echo Down the Halls of Time.

Would we

Even now

In this Day

& Age

Accept the Lessons

That they Teach,

Parables,

Metaphors?

What is the Underlining Message,

what Vein Runs True?

The Tale

I am about to Unfold,

May be True.

I will let you,

Judge for yourself.

How much Whim,

How much Fancy.

It Begins with the Dark

& Loneliness of Space,

so Like the Depths

Of our Great Oceans.

An Irony

That I Hope

Is not Lost on you.

Depths we have Barely Scratched,

Why I ask is it So.

It Begins with Slavery

& the Dissatisfaction

That it Brings.

It Begins with Those

That First Taught us

the Taste of the Bit,

to Yoke the Beast

& Later thy Brother.

We all Know,

Man was Created,

but for What,

A Reflection of Who.

Shall I Tell you,

Will These Words

Ever be Seen by Another?

Will They be Considered

the Drug Induced

Ravings of Madness?

For I have Known

the Taste of the Needle.

The Siren Song

of Lies she Sings,

Only for you

If you have Enough.

Twirling upon the Edge,

Dancing the Dream,

as you

Dig It in.

I only Know.

I must Commit this to Paper.

In Hopes

That a more Enlightened Mind

than Mine

Can Fathom the Possibilities.