That Void (2005)

A bang, shatter, clash and clang!
Was the way His void began.
Life after life, piled on heaps
Of blanks, which the flock could later reap.

Vengeance, contempt or was it an abhorrent sigh,
On which the roots of the void doth lie?
Messiahs, saints and prophets grazed its fields,
While the ignorant being-still, near the cross kneels.

Questions are hungery for answers,
And the still, pungent void lingers
Around the maddening circle of life.
Blood for blood, a fist for a fist and strifes for a strife.

Is it a deity so nascent and noble;
Or a belief laced with words of a fable,
Or maybe just a careless, fanciful whim
That would suffice the questions so fearful and grim?

None, but the void is just a question,
With specks of life-hungry foliage-
Fed on by these ignorant beings,
Of an ugly and unknown lineage.

Texts, scriptures and water from a stone,
A nail in the cross and a mournful groan.
Deliverence and redemption are concepts so foul;
But seldom sensed by scholars that prowl.

Hope- the hollow trunk of a lifeless tree,
Where beings dwell and dream to be free.
Thriving on the mossy darkness of the erect structure
As pours the crooked worm in its silken tent the mirth of glee.

From a life such as this, its worth being free,
And float like an unborn light tracing its path
To the arc of an Ullysses,
Where the gossamer binds every leaf of a throbbing tree.