Hall Of History
© Surazeus
2015 12 14
When I walk the long hall of history
I wander lost in signless labyrinth
of ambition and greed to dominate
rugged lands where rivers laugh at our pride.
We gather on high hill after sunset
and watch the woman twirling wand of light
dance around the fire and chant magic spells
that fill our minds with visions of this world.
We build a giant tower to reach the stars
and gather on its steps to chant all night
then Ishtar sends us out across the land
to sing dream of creation on each hill.
Ten thousand years we gather in bright halls
and sing the tales of human gods who lead
our journey through waste land to paradise
and worship statues long after they die.
Gathered in stadium in city of lights,
we listen to a woman with bright eyes
sing spells of love before huge cheering crowd
whose show is beamed on television screens.
My hall of history that shines with stars
is crowded with tall statues carved in stone
of each god and goddess in every land
whose names are written in their tales of life.
Nameless and joyful, I walk flowered shore
where river of voices sings endless tale
relating life of every one who lived
whose dramas play on the stage of my eyes.
When I walk the bright hall of history
I pause before the statue of each soul
and watch them journey on their quest for truth
that we are all woven from light of stars.
© Surazeus
2015 12 14
When I walk the long hall of history
I wander lost in signless labyrinth
of ambition and greed to dominate
rugged lands where rivers laugh at our pride.
We gather on high hill after sunset
and watch the woman twirling wand of light
dance around the fire and chant magic spells
that fill our minds with visions of this world.
We build a giant tower to reach the stars
and gather on its steps to chant all night
then Ishtar sends us out across the land
to sing dream of creation on each hill.
Ten thousand years we gather in bright halls
and sing the tales of human gods who lead
our journey through waste land to paradise
and worship statues long after they die.
Gathered in stadium in city of lights,
we listen to a woman with bright eyes
sing spells of love before huge cheering crowd
whose show is beamed on television screens.
My hall of history that shines with stars
is crowded with tall statues carved in stone
of each god and goddess in every land
whose names are written in their tales of life.
Nameless and joyful, I walk flowered shore
where river of voices sings endless tale
relating life of every one who lived
whose dramas play on the stage of my eyes.
When I walk the bright hall of history
I pause before the statue of each soul
and watch them journey on their quest for truth
that we are all woven from light of stars.
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