Poetry / The Messenger

Why
Do we become so enamoured and pre-occupied with the one chosen, the one who stands up, the one who chooses to say what we all feel and know in our hearts is true?

We
Adore him, abhor him, berrate, believe, envy, love, hate, beat, sting, kill—but never, ever try to replace him (oh, sacrilege!)

But
In the rabble, the frenzy, the titanic clashes of cosmic energies all focused and fixed on this one point of light, all screaming questions obscure and demented, screaming, crying, praying…

Until
Like a dying sun, we burn ourselves out, imploding in the darkness of exhaustion, confusion, condemnation, dementian, emptiness…

And
The most important thing of all is obscured, blurred, interpreted, translated, utterly lost and forgotten in ravishing, ravaging, merciless, marching, plodding, endless time.

Until
All we have is one question:  What was it He said?

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