we kill... <br />'holy' hands forming gods <br />out of our paper bag hungers, <br />in the image of our fears. <br />we sacrifice blood, <br />in the name of redemption. <br />and the ghosts of the innocents <br />burn our thoughts and our eyes. <br /> <br />what kind of father <br />teaches his children <br />to kill each other? <br />are we bastards, or liars, <br />afraid of our sins? <br /> <br />even the earth we defile, <br />cries against us in anguish. <br />the morality we buy and sell, <br />is bitter to the taste. <br /> <br />the voice of the eternal, <br />lost in the din and the madness. <br />leaving only the tug of the wind, <br />the cries of small children <br />the whimper of stray dogs. <br /> <br />words written in charcoal, <br />on forever grey skies... <br />'i have come to you, <br />again and again, <br />in countless forms, <br />speaking your own languages, <br />wearing your own skin... <br /> <br />why have you forgotten me? <br />and who do you follow? ' <br />the voice behind gods, <br />or the gods we become?<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gods-we-become/
