As the Cadaver Dogs Get Closer

This life, that's but a footnote in our souls,
Is not for us, but for the others,
Who gather, in the ribbons that we drop,
The mirrors we had promised we would leave
In our brief stay here, among the others,
Leaning ourselves, perplexed in our fresh eyes,
At names on a shiny monolith, that gave
With their lives their service, to disappear
In the oblivion of temporary minds,
Dirt sifted for clues again...

   No wonder
That listening to a madman in a bar
Is far more important than what diseases
We learn to cure, for the way that we turn
Our shame into praise, and then into silence
Is why we spend our time the way we do,
By turns so gentle and so brutal,
From puppets of our glands to masters
Of our universe, each day we choose
What truths to bend, which lives we can become.
Our minds, like Gods, just cycle like the sun...

And all is play.
We're soldiers in an army, whose generals we call God,
Yet we make all the decisions - we lift off
To meet up with ourselves, only to find
The highest part of us playing with toy artillery
In the sand, obeying all our commands,
We who wait for some word of the real
So patiently, for hope of a heaven
Where all of this has meaning. 

It comes
In kisses and in sighs, in achieving
The others that we ask to be ourselves
As we link the chains electric each to each.