HOME | DD

Description
There are always other stars.
Other worlds, a million dawns,
a billion dusks. Creatures of carbon
and of gases and of aged chemical sands.
The death of fire.

We wrote the stars and gave them names,
sent our heroes to live amongst them.
They were gods, birthing religions
and so shone black, covering us in
sin and coal darkness.
The death of earth.

Men took the jewels from land and sea
and used them to make cathedrals and universities,
edifices of learning and unreason. We stole
from the creatures we deemed inferior beings
and called it being human. We made suns of our own
beneath the towers that spat all the vapours of hell.
The death of air.

And in our haste to plunder
to steal from the defenceless soils
we made the same mistake as all
those pretty burning lights.
The spirits of the dead stories looked on
as we dropped their gifts out of ships
into the acid, storm-wracked seas.
The death of water.

The death of elements is to be lamented,
though energy and matter is neither fresh and new
nor condemned to withering oblivion.
Nothing is able to be destroyed completely.

Tell that to the human race
as they act out their sick fantasies of power
on their damaged mother.
We are Oedipus all,
we are but blind kings of little nations
though none may wear a crown.

As the old ways die, as history is riven
with new thought and prejudices,
spare a thought for the unremembered
for the lost and forgotten remnants
of man's humanity.

Amid the falling angels,
it was the only one to rise.

Description
There are always other stars.
Other worlds, a million dawns,
a billion dusks. Creatures of carbon
and of gases and of aged chemical sands.
The death of fire.

We wrote the stars and gave them names,
sent our heroes to live amongst them.
They were gods, birthing religions
and so shone black, covering us in
sin and coal darkness.
The death of earth.

Men took the jewels from land and sea
and used them to make cathedrals and universities,
edifices of learning and unreason. We stole
from the creatures we deemed inferior beings
and called it being human. We made suns of our own
beneath the towers that spat all the vapours of hell.
The death of air.

And in our haste to plunder
to steal from the defenceless soils
we made the same mistake as all
those pretty burning lights.
The spirits of the dead stories looked on
as we dropped their gifts out of ships
into the acid, storm-wracked seas.
The death of water.

The death of elements is to be lamented,
though energy and matter is neither fresh and new
nor condemned to withering oblivion.
Nothing is able to be destroyed completely.

Tell that to the human race
as they act out their sick fantasies of power
on their damaged mother.
We are Oedipus all,
we are but blind kings of little nations
though none may wear a crown.

As the old ways die, as history is riven
with new thought and prejudices,
spare a thought for the unremembered
for the lost and forgotten remnants
of man's humanity.

Amid the falling angels,
it was the only one to rise.