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Description
Hand me my small eternities though the world crumbles away.
I tire of your endings! I know that existence cannot be measured
By numbers and calculations.
Death can never conquer the infinity of life.

You say all things are transient, that they never last...
I say the petal that is plucked from the flower
And the leaf that falls from autumnal boughs
Contain in them small eternities which only the soul can comprehend.

You speak of gods that rise from graves
And you promise paradise for souls
Yet you cannot even accept that immortality might be found
Simply by thought alone?

You say eternity is for gods alone, but your gods
Are deified men. Don't you see the irony?
Your preachers taught of god-men among us who teach us
The deeper truth in simple things...

Alas you are blinded
Foolishly building walls encasing spirit
And you strive to weigh down the divinity in us all
By preaching of the lie called impermanence.

Perhaps you doubt the strength of the heart
That makes all things endure?
Perhaps you fail to acknowledge that gods dwell in you
Interwoven into your cosmic soul?

I do not believe your apocalypse myths!
There is no such thing as endings no matter the transience of life.
I find my immortality in little gestures and moments shared or felt alone.
I find in living small eternities which are mine and yours but are never really owned.

Description
Hand me my small eternities though the world crumbles away.
I tire of your endings! I know that existence cannot be measured
By numbers and calculations.
Death can never conquer the infinity of life.

You say all things are transient, that they never last...
I say the petal that is plucked from the flower
And the leaf that falls from autumnal boughs
Contain in them small eternities which only the soul can comprehend.

You speak of gods that rise from graves
And you promise paradise for souls
Yet you cannot even accept that immortality might be found
Simply by thought alone?

You say eternity is for gods alone, but your gods
Are deified men. Don't you see the irony?
Your preachers taught of god-men among us who teach us
The deeper truth in simple things...

Alas you are blinded
Foolishly building walls encasing spirit
And you strive to weigh down the divinity in us all
By preaching of the lie called impermanence.

Perhaps you doubt the strength of the heart
That makes all things endure?
Perhaps you fail to acknowledge that gods dwell in you
Interwoven into your cosmic soul?

I do not believe your apocalypse myths!
There is no such thing as endings no matter the transience of life.
I find my immortality in little gestures and moments shared or felt alone.
I find in living small eternities which are mine and yours but are never really owned.