Halls Of Eternity

sandaled feet, dusty streets,
Sumerian wheels turning...
pages of history written in histories

of those that came after....
walking with the gods,
listening as they spoke of

worlds far across the universe...
tales of the flood, creation and beginning,
all handed down to them....

and handed down by them....
a whisper in time, merely an echo,
as if a stone dropped in a pool...

and now our own world,
crashing headlong o'er a cliff;
do we dare believe time is over?

or are we just Sumerian ghosts
playing the same song,
dancing the same dance,

to the halls of eternity?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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