Knowladge

A pebble in the sands of time,
Reveals secrets held in trust,
As a holy epidemic wages war within the dusk.

And the gods all cry a pantheon,
Of fear and hate full things,
For the knowledge that their angles had their tails before their wings.

And those trapped in the hour glass,
Unknowingly prepare to fight,
At semi-conscious intervals between the shadows and the light.

And from high aloft their thrones, of Omnipotent distress they scream,
For the knowledge that mankind is far more ready than they seem

To take a few unholy strides,
Between the gates of heavens grasp,
For the knowledge that we to posses the dreams of futures past.

And with this knowledge, peace, and truth,
We'll feel compelled to walk away,
And rest in omniscient content between the gates of night and day.

And watch as all of time,
Conforms to life within the glass,
In comfort with the knowledge that our future's not the last.