© by Xrtsys 1998
All Rights Reserved
Page by Jilli
STARLIGHT
by: XRTSYS
I look upon the stars, and think.
They're beautiful, aren't they?
Shining across the endless miles of space
Like beacons for the weary travelers,
A sense of comfort for those far from home.
They are the camp fires of the endless void,
The oasis for that thing we call life,
And for billions of years, they drift, and they burn,
Bringing comfort for those like us,
Who would look upon them, and think.
Think of harnessing the fire, the endless heat,
Use it to warm their souls,
And burn the night away.
And they sit, and they dream.
They dream of the wonders this fire of the Gods can bring,
They dream of the joys this power contains,
And they sit, upon the shoulders of the many before them,
And dream that they are Gods.
And so, a world bereft of its Gods,
Torn away by the grips of science,
Creates its own.
And the newborn Gods look upon each other, and laugh,
For they see merely a man,
And what is a man to them, for they are Gods.
And they argue, and they play,
At a game that no one can win,
And as each new piece is placed upon the board,
Each new move is taken,
They argue just that much more.
They spit upon each other, and dare the other to make a move,
For woe behold he who angers the Gods,
Until finally, that move is made.
And the Gods, who laugh at the game,
Who think they have finally won,
Realize, in their hour of death,
That they are not Gods,
And think too late upon the game that none can win.
And so I sit here,
On a hill over looking the city,
Watching the starlight die,
And the death of my friends,
By Starlight.
- Xrtsys
They're beautiful, aren't they?
Shining across the endless miles of space
Like beacons for the weary travelers,
A sense of comfort for those far from home.
They are the camp fires of the endless void,
The oasis for that thing we call life,
And for billions of years, they drift, and they burn,
Bringing comfort for those like us,
Who would look upon them, and think.
Think of harnessing the fire, the endless heat,
Use it to warm their souls,
And burn the night away.
And they sit, and they dream.
They dream of the wonders this fire of the Gods can bring,
They dream of the joys this power contains,
And they sit, upon the shoulders of the many before them,
And dream that they are Gods.
And so, a world bereft of its Gods,
Torn away by the grips of science,
Creates its own.
And the newborn Gods look upon each other, and laugh,
For they see merely a man,
And what is a man to them, for they are Gods.
And they argue, and they play,
At a game that no one can win,
And as each new piece is placed upon the board,
Each new move is taken,
They argue just that much more.
They spit upon each other, and dare the other to make a move,
For woe behold he who angers the Gods,
Until finally, that move is made.
And the Gods, who laugh at the game,
Who think they have finally won,
Realize, in their hour of death,
That they are not Gods,
And think too late upon the game that none can win.
And so I sit here,
On a hill over looking the city,
Watching the starlight die,
And the death of my friends,
By Starlight.
