sceptical of the naive,

that the world is as young as they say.

instead I enjoy the unprovable,

at least the externally doable,

the time machine that doesn’t exist.

how old is humanity,

not sapien’s reality,

but the one that honours our past.

all the way back to the first,

the ones that searched,

for more than the reality around them.

stood up to reach high,

they touched the sky,

and the gods came down to say hello.

giants of people,

building great steeples,

to honour those that came before.

cataclysm after cataclysm,

wipes their worlds into atheism,

desperately searching for truth.

the old gods may be rare,

but some of them still stare,

as humanity does the worse.

past worshipped,

disaster perverted,

by religious politicians faking prophets.

establishment reign,

that the minds of the sane,

be coerced by suppression and conquest.

the answer is to question,

this is the pathway to heaven,

and final destruction of samsara’s curse.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString