"Staircases Back Towards One"

In times long forgotten, half-hidden memories of truth,
clay flesh was enlightened, stretched from puddle, loose.
Beam breaths danced from spiraled heights, awakened through lust,
to gain a sense of simpler things, matters of the flesh, crust,
overlapping layers trapping light of a paternal force, just,
all able to rule the lives of newly-made men, solid juice,
fruits of a labor long-spread over wide terrain, trapped and noosed.

Once the flesh of souls caught the sweat, tears and loss,
no words of prayer were ample, the path was long, bringing cost.
Slow crawls toward right were fought, slow walks and thought.
The dreams of animals filled their minds, boorish calm brought.
Food and water, mate and matter, steel-like crypts were wrought,
aging splendor in the lands of their creator, free from care, boss,
morals thrown out the window, for the pleasure of true senses were lost.

From far away, untouched and numb had such beings merely watched,
as animal snuffed animal and physical love burned the gates, latched.
Temptation led them astray as well, desire to know all, to have felt,
the cold ice of a frozen morning, without building it in the mind as dealt.
Their sin was to want so much more than being One with that which so spelt,
their existence, the essence of what they were, the putty of their batch.
Bored with true life, they erred, forcing their mistake be seen and cached.

In records and thoughts sit all souls' quests back, unconscious memory,
stained sheets of bleeding paper, made of wood sanded down by stick of emory,
grating contradictions stung the first dead citizens, a karmic shine.
Old laws were forgotten, especially the creed of act returning after time,
a bullet train in the dark, hidden dagger cutting awaiting skin, primed.
All courses and measures meant nothing, the truth was utter simplicity,
do unto other as you would have them do unto you, excuse came easily.

Flesh so recently light, answered back at the sight with pride.
Collected decisions forged alien patterns into all of their minds.
A seed of deceit and criminal intent lay deep down within, crafty.
Workload pushed onto constructed life, monstrosities made daftly,
a mockery of creation's motive, a seamless plot to solve issues quickly.
Hard work was made possible by the hideous shapes, irregular like the tide.
These engineered mistakes set back mankind, harshly elongating the ride.

Their glow and hum at night was ball lightning caught in a wire.
The energy of their life formed into a means to conquer, to make fire,
bombs and lasers, missiles and craft, they were the masters, divine,
With their deeds came the guilt of knowing more, life of more than bovine.
Cattle and sheep were they to allow their sacred alters to be re-aligned,
given over to the deep passions and silly notion of power and greed.
Their dreams haunted them with misery, all lived knowing their cruel deed.

To give up peace, shelter, all knowledge and opportunity to exist,
to truly live in the spiraling world winds of the stars, what they missed,
was absolutely everything they had known was life, but was it all bad?
Did the souls of age-old creation do wrong or something unexpected, sad,
or was their master the one soul who understood them, as a proud dad,
knowing the mistakes must be made for acceptance and true joy to fill,
their waiting vessels, for them to actually understand the truth She built?

Pondering these gems, the simple beasts that had tamed the force of all,
learned the confinements of muscle and bone, their mission had stalled.
Rivalries grew into factions, which grew into cults and religion.
The message was less important than the messenger then, another sin,
an agent above One, accepted in so many peoples' eyes, again and again.
Ages of doomed souls repeating long since found faults, falling deeper down,
into the vat of eternal suffering so-called life, recycling of the bound.

Bloodstained hands struck down the beasts that had been so foully grown.
Cataclysms swept them under the seas, attempting to wash away the known.
Men died to live again, starting over in their impulses and terrific rage.
Their latent desire to get back at being cast out, smashed, deprived of age,
cost them ever more setbacks as they became even more evil, karmiclly caged.
Deprived souls didn't understand why they wound up in hellish lives, dead,
since they merely cared for the moment when the suffering would finally end.

Books from One came down like rain showers then, everyone found a new answer.
Their god was unlike any previous lord, but entirely their own, transferred,
from a pillar of decency into a motive for war, for bloodshed, for hate.
Reason held no court with the devils that marched the earth, only fate,
the unmistakable pain of guilt filling their hearts like a metal plate.
Suicide fell into their corrupted minds, an escape from learning, to cope,
to find answers and solutions in things other than blade, gun, or rope.

And so the world kept spinning, living, dying, and renewing mistakes.
Years became decades and centuries, time never fell or grew fake.
Attached souls will eventually return to another, learning in tandem.
Though the lessons which life is formed around, rarely take long to fathom.
It's merely the thought of accepting the answer in something random.
One day may bring a firestorm of resolve, like taking a bite from the Sun.
Others pummel you into the ground, losing you on staircases back toward One.