The wheel has come unbound, our heading lost.
No one is in command who knows the way.
What good is it to offer thoughts and prayers
when power tells us action is no use,
and only seeks to satisfy itself.
The ocean does not classify its dead.
And when the last vestige of hope is dead,
who will be left to measure what is lost?
A treasure cannot ever spend itself,
nor can a map discover its own way.
These tools that we accumulate for use,
are pointless as more idle thought and prayer.
Who is the object of that fervent prayer,
the ruler of somewhere we go when dead,
a place while living that has little use
except to frighten those we claim are lost?
We do not know, but claim to know the way,
despite not having seen the spot itself.
Yet that is not so great a sin, itself.
Despite the efficaciousness of prayers,
the wayward soul may quickly find its way.
Still, no one profits from a slave that’s dead,
or can recoup what profits may be lost.
Mere punishment alone is not much use.
So what is to be done, and what’s the use
ignoring those who speak for God itself?
The road is straight ahead. We are not lost.
This is the answer to our whispered prayers.
Excelsior, it’s forward now, or dead.
All options narrow to a single way.
There surely must be more than just one way,
a myriad of different tools to use.
We worship, but don’t listen to, the dead,
who tell us means define the end itself.
We talk too much about our thoughts and prayers,
but in this great confusion we are lost
The wheel has come unbound along the way,
which is not all that troublesome itself
but with just maps and charts of little use,
we seem to be dependent on some prayers
that only seem to help you when you’re dead,
or when you make believe you are not lost.
03 JUL 2025