Enough Trouble Caused
When we began to put the gods in myth
And the language of the poets, transcendence
Died. This literature became the smith
That pounded, flat, godly ascendance
To make them jewellery foil for our minds.
They used to be so coolly far above
Us that they spoke to us through riddles, blinds,
And thickest curtains, prophets offering love
And loving threats (the worst). Now history,
These beings once were far outside the blood
In bones and now the gods are a mystery
Who comes, if at all, like an inner thud.
..Where have the gods gone to, the ancient, high
….Ones? Don’t return. Avoid Sinai.