"This Epoch"
by Dan Puskar - 1994
The pale realm where man resides
is undoubtedly the sphere
where love would die
pragmatic spectres toil mundane
in a sad, forgotten, opaque refrain
Sailing on seas of regret and mire
forgotten souls drift in endless tire
never to taste the lips of fate
but kiss of breath disconsolate
Labyrinthic, anesthetic, pathetic course
destined to nourish and breed remorse
engaging the minds of men in doom
and infecting the heart of love with gloom
Brought upon this land disease
that kills the earth, the sky and seas
for Heaven's Eye percieves this pain
as man's own gift to bile and flame
Spritely figures dance and sing
embrace the joy and light of spring
Behold this world as precious sod
and light of heart they merge with God
They feel caressed and charmed by life
feel no worry, bear no strife
But suffer persecution still
by the faceless, soulless, nameless ill
To what end existance bears our seed
A burdened journey weighed by greed
Beset by plague, bereaved by love
because of deeds we're guilty of
Continents of men view destiny
on worlds anew in blackest sea
How bold this plan to voyage far
though we know not who or what we are
We do not see the shardes of light
encompass wisdom enough to fight
our own destructive instinct or
that which we ourselves deplore
Perceive as base, condemn as ill
and go on living in our swill
Continue to idealize and
dream of realms to 'civilize'
Yet man as such can never see
what the folly of his thrust might be
Not deities but mortal souls
whose ignorance and failures toll
Forever grinding into mist
where no sound nor light nor texture is
Blind and deaf, this stumbling race
spins on endlessly through space
Born again to err and try
the bounds and bonds of mortal skies
Karmatic cadences drum and chime
as God and Earth condemn with time
And human nature is to own
as steel and fire is to bone
Romances too, though sweet and tender
are no oasis from this splendor
Love is such that all mankind
persues its bonds and gifts sublime
And though it's tethers distill a joy
what dreaded poisons it does employ!
To what length love engages deep
pleasant hopes that would but sleep
And how it pains and murders those
who plunge into it's baleful throes
But trials of such a mild nature
are deserving of no more a stature
than childs play or tales for girls
in such a hateful, war-like world
Of more concearn is money earned
Love forgotten, beauty spurned
When death is king and conquest queen
romance fails to mean a thing
Centuries of thoughless, idle
submission without doubt or trial
have condemned these sordid masses
who could only appear as asses
in eyes of God and view of self
if perception ever lent a well
of wisdom for this tomb of minds
we in folly have defined
Were their truth without dispute
and vision of divine repute
for justice to be uniform
amongst this torrid human storm
Then the most apparent lie
that Enlightenment would spy
is sociatal charade
and authority's inept facade
It seems that they who only see
success in fame and revere
are those deserving less a fate
than those content to vascillate
For those who live a life of ease
more likeley spread a fell disease
While those who seek approving eyes
are more the ilk to harbour lies
The like of those who will not bend
to wills of iron evil sends
who stand against the flow of all
that contradict the great and small
are children of a Greater Plane
and so are subject to great pain
An injury that pierces through
the flesh and soul of Strength and Truth
Birthed by ill our societal swill
takes root in days when the mercilessly killed
were just and true, free and one
amongst this Earth, the stars and sun
Accused and cursed, burned and buried
for union with God these innocents harried
And with them died the sweetest words
that may have saved this sad, drab world
