This is something I just put down after waking up from a nap. It's very rough - just words for the images in my fever dream, surely fed by all of the evolution / creation talk inspired by Darwin's birthday.

Breaking Creation's Ladder

Pulling apart the ladder of creation
piece by piece
bones and beaks
break the rotten rungs
finding not solid gold
but a layer of gilt,
just thick enough to keep its shape.
Filled with stale imaginations
and rigid attitudes
the illusion remains
though the ladder of creation
can clearly hold no weight.
Battered by bacteria
and eroded by reason
All that remains is the the ladder's shape -
shimmering, worthless flakes
held together by faith and fear.
Blinded by its reflection,
men quake and walk in circles
beneath it
unable to see wonders
just beyond its influence.
They hold their children tightly
in the shadow of creation's ladder
covering innocent eyes,
lest they see that
shining, spiraling,
built to last,
the truth twines through every cell.
All men ARE brothers
and cousin to all that lives.

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Good to have you back with us, Kylyssa. This is nice. Has a nice rythm to it. I especially like the last two lines. A great way to sum it up.
Thank you. A friend pointed out today that I'd used the word 'gilt' and could have used 'guilt' just as well and that I used the word 'flakes' which could describe people as well as pieces of gold leaf, LOL.
Gilt fits perfectly well after gold. Maybe you can rewrite it a little to include both, so it would be a play on words.




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