The same are the gods
Ruminating on our blood,
Not telling us what we are here for
It must be something,
But smaller for the knowing?
Smaller because blood is like wine
For sharks for gods.
The purer thing
It should be for not telling
Is a serial lapse;
The first hand cradled in a hand,
The warmth of a loving body
Should render spirit apart
Though cannot say who we are.
Something in linear time,
The product of money
Or how the market works,
Building prosperity for the few.
Ah, the gods and the sharks cruise and slide!
Artful in metempsychosis
Careful to minimize
What is known;
Dummy code (0’s and 1’s),
Or for gods ‘dial a hero’.
The lack of meaning has its purposes.
The same are the gods,
Their similar vices,
Their lust for blood,
Their willingness to hide,
Are ours.
Alex Richmond
After university (English and Philosophy) Alex pondered the mystery of balancing a creative
life with the earning money. He has worked as a guitarist, tutor in prisons, renovator of
tennis courts and now runs an 18 th century prints business near Death Valley.