Up There The Little Gods Are Speaking

Up there i worship little gods
dressed in their golden clothes

shining like little suns and
exuding little sparks of divinities

we here must bow and listen.

disregarding contempt i open
my ears to hear, my eyes to see

i hear the sound of the barbars,
whispers of power that i honestly

cannot understand.I do not feel
the warmth of their tiny lights.

My feet are tired kneeling.

I have to take a walk and ponder
Whether i still deserve to be human

sane and unfettered by the mandates
of old divine codes so inapplicable

to my present state of affairs
my despair, my imperfectibility

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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