"And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
and Horror the Soul of the Plot."
- Edger Allen Poe,
"The Conqueror Worm"
Oh how much longer must this go on,
when will this tragic play end?
When will we start to realize that there
is no more point in trying to pretend?
Soon without hint nor warning
that crimson curtain will fall.
Down upon you, down upon me,
down over us, down over all.
I've often wondered long about
what our final great act will be.
What will be that last insulting thing
the Maker must see?
There is now nothing left to behold
in the dimming spotlight but us.
Having forgotten how to sing and dance
we can only spit and cuss.
Once we preformed together
on the grandest most beautiful stage.
Now it lies about us in ruins,
stripped by our greed, smashed by our rage.
In the beginning we each were given
our own script to act out.
Now we can't even remember
what the whole thing was about.
We still strut about thinking
we're the stars of the whole show,
Caught in our mad play we fail
to anticipate the hammer-blow.
In our play, all once known to be evil and foul
is now considered to be good and right.
Against such notions like love, forgiveness,
courage, mercy, honor and justice we now fight.
We twist and warp, turning the truth
inside out, backwards, and upside down.
We glorify ourselves and worship our creations
even as our souls cry out as they drown.
The wisdom and knowledge of the ancients
has been forgotten or cast aside.
Slowly into that godless, soulless world
where "everything goes" we slide.
But no play can go on forever,
that's the truth we cannot bare to face,
Here on this lonely planet turning
in the vast darkness of endless cold space.
The end of one play, one way,
marks the beginning of yet another.
Let our final act be to say "I'm sorry"
to the Maker and each other.
