Up There The Little Gods Are Speaking Poem by RIC BASTASA

Up there i worship little gods
dressed in their golden clothes

shining like little suns and
exuding little sparks of divinities

we here must bow and listen.

disregarding contempt i open
my ears to hear, my eyes to see

i hear the sound of the barbars,
whispers of power that i honestly

cannot understand.I do not feel
the warmth of their tiny lights.

My feet are tired kneeling.

I have to take a walk and ponder
Whether i still deserve to be human

sane and unfettered by the mandates
of old divine codes so inapplicable

to my present state of affairs
my despair, my imperfectibility