Friday, May 12, 2017

Tides Of Power

Tides Of Power
© Surazeus
2017 05 12

I float suspended in the flow of time
while watching people contend for control
in never-ending game of politics
when individuals seem to win and lose,
rising and falling in slow tides of power.

The global system of our nation states
connected by corporations and religions
that stood solid for these past eighty years
trembles from quake of contentious conflict
as ancient systems of government fight
against fractious groups of opposing visions
to define our global community.

I imagine painted on temple wall
entire progress of human history
as we transformed over ten thousand years
from simple tribes of hunter-gatherers
through nations merging into vast empires
to global puzzle of contending states.

I envision the whole process of change
as each generation played games of power
when gods wielded scepters like thunderbolt
and gathered many tribes on ziggurats
to sing creation of our universe,
when priests wielded tablets of tales and laws
and erected gold statues of dead gods
then enforced rules for people to live right,
when kings wielded swords to enforce commands
and organized people to grow more crops
then constructed castles to rule lush fields,
when dictators wielded guns to attack
rivals for power and oppress common people
hired to construct factories to build cars,
and when presidents before cameras
present vision for programs that provide
good services in return for their votes.

I see the same events of social drama
occur again and again over time
for every leader over every nation
these past ten thousand years of constant change
as generations of people are born,
contend in social games for wealth and fame,
arrange the rules to benefit their children,
then fall away into abyss of death
as their bodies and brains dissolve to dust,
and they vanish as their children in turn
contend in social games for wealth and fame.

With every winner in fierce games for power
thousands of people lose and wander lost
while numberless groups of people maintain
daily routines of productive creation
to grow food and build works with grasping hands.

All the ancient songs of experience
composed by our ancestors long ago
that preserve in stories the names and deeds
of people who gained wisdom facing death
shimmer in the minds of mothers and fathers
who sit in silence and watch television
so the legends of our tribes are all lost
as each generation falls in the grave,
and we hear nothing but the sad song of wind.

I feel all around me spinning with stars
the ceaseless story of aggressive games
which people play to win glory and fame
that cycles on the wheel of war and peace
as our giant ball of mountains and seas
spirals nowhere through vast infinite space,
so every moment in the game of thrones
hangs suspended in the process of change.

Whoever rules this land or that on Earth
means nothing in the scheme of history
for rulers come and go on tides of hope
and they who rule today will fall tomorrow
while we who seek to know nature of things
continue on our endless quest for truth.


  1. ...and it seems even the truth changes.

  2. Thank you for this masterful poem. I read it over a few times and feel it says so much I need to read it again. It is a powerful warning and between the lines a promise of hope. -Adron,