Gravity And The Grave Poem by Saint Eule

Isaac Newton captive in observation and mystery;
Saw an apple fall and now the rest is history.
Gravity pulling us downward toward the earth;
We leap upward but return to the place of birth.

Religion surrounds the grave like a moat a castle great;
But who will cross the bridge and open Gideon's gate.
The monk, the priest, the tame or the wild;
Or will it be the one with the heart of a child.

Vindictive, pompous, judging children of deceit;
Will fall in moat head first, then their sooty feet.
Swimming in endless circles trying to escape;
Sinking into the mud of thoughtless retreat.

A virtual enigma of passive illusion;
Taunted by the games of confusion.

While the children cross over the bridge;
In simple innocence wasting not the time.
The gate is open and the palace they created;
Not by hands or mortar but poetry and rhyme.