Building a temple, unto thine
Casting endless lots
Upon thou throne of time
with the essence all hidden
and this game of wage
our bodies lay heavy
On this setting of a stage

This simple mankind
Weaving the threads of thine
Bodies laden, and minds cascading
tripping on limited time…

Where is our solace?
This question I see
Is it in the end…
past the body….
or something called me.