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The Tin-God’s Drums.

i) A ponderous, weary ticking in the stillness of my room,

And a stale-sweaty, heavy atmosphere compounds that torrid gloom;

The rhythmic click-click-clacking of a million tiny, tin-pestle feet

That POUND the steel plate Mind-Floor in a polyphonic, thunderous beat.

ii) The mind’s darkness flows in crazed ever-flowing colours, like some turbulent ephod;

And in an atmosphere where the air has no condition, I dream of lying on a cold, wet, earthy sod.

But the mind is restlessly wandering; frantic, as if its own cells’ end is nigh,

But in cloudy dark few stars litter the Heavens; no guiding help from up On High.

iii) Eventually, those thoughts that mean so little will be cast, useless on the pyre;

Where the raw, Elemental, Thought-Phoenix-Blaze draws new perspectives; in gaudy blasts of lightning-fire.

Like the snap of every flint that ever deemed to raise a spark,

In the bleakness of thought-matter weaving riddles in the dark.

iv) And all the World is about the fusion; in-fusion; con-fusion,

Which only ever leads to the instilling of deeper Illusion; and deeper Con-Fusion!

Did the Eternal ever see this coming, under the Moon and under the Sun?

Because it seems too much like a battle that was lost before it could ever be won!

v) And there in that colliding melee; you can finally start to see some Truths:

That only poisoned waters flow within their Fountains of Youth.

And there, even stars can rain down in icy, blazing clods;

That herald the end for so many false idols and intransigent neon gods.

vi) In the Crucibles of Endeavour; some thoughts beat low-drawn paths –

We made too many darkling Waiting Gods in those Sacrificial Hearths.

For in those dank, deep mind caves, even those things which Heaven has abhorred

Are recast to try to make them seem like Emissaries of The far more potent Lord!

vii) I look out of a window and see a thousand half-lit, half-darkened rooms;

And wonder, is this is a Living World? It seems like a series of nigh-sealed Tombs.

Variation causes interest; it’s Life and Natural Evolution at play,

While too much in the physical world seems like stagnation and decay.

viii) As the Thought-World changes minute by minute we have to realise

New contexts to the lessons that we’ve learned:-

Some flames we shied from are almost far too subtle now;

But to go too near provides a far more vicious, savage burn!

xi) Silently, the computers hid beneath the wreck

Run your life from every second to a financial pound;

If you get caught within the morass,

They’ll run you deep into the ground!

x) And what if the Earth Grows, as successively more ever-numerous species rise and fall?

And the bones of Ancient Life become the new Cold World’s most precious haul?

The Alchemy of the Mother Earth is its, and its to know;

But strife over this ever-dwindling lode mean that life and blood are perpetually spilled and flow.

xi) Our World will have its stages; through ice, and water, and vapid mists;

And by its own reckoning, makes its own rounds and irrigations.

So we farm to try our best to feed our masses; our endless human lists,

But digging too deep for too little result causes only mounds of dirt and rust and decimation!

xii) But what shall lie beneath all this? When Earth’s own Core is dim and cold?

A rotting pile of dust and rock for a few more flecks of mineral gold.

When all Dominions and Principalities sit on the wreck of Ancient Thrones,

And leave the Earth a barren heap of lifeless clay and bones!

xiii) A world of earth, and water, and salt; sand and crystal bounds,

Where the rot of previous inhabitants is a quest for metal and fuels;

Where the green earth finds it hard to thrive, and from the darkness’ above our bounds

Earth is now NOT such a glittering jewel.

xiv) And what of me, you may ask? Infusion? Confusion? Re-fusion!

But that’ll never silence the thrumming of the Tin-Gods’ cavitating feet

Forming order and inverting back into chaos and confusion

With the mercurial, anticlastic, reaving of the heart’s ever-bludgeoning beat!

xv) But in the ever-shifting darkness, the Dance goes on in its steady, violent, clippety-clop.

And as the mind whirls, it sometimes wonders where and when it’ll stop!

And in this blackling chaos no stars that shone will ever again really shine,

Until the Tin-Gods find their way from the base to the Divine!