Pulsar Colony - Sculptures

Channeling the emotions
Of the stone carvings
Tiny bodies with contorted faces
No apparent movement
But you’ll notice that their eyes
Are bottomless wells
You see the sum of tragic events
Strike the gong
And let their cries reverberate
Across the forests, rivers, and mountains
Where they desire to go
And feed on whatever they can grasp
Without prejudice or controlling forces
The sculptures of this secluded place
Why would they want to stay here?
When they can cover the far-reaching hills
The setting sun, the golden grass
How pretty are the jewels in their heads
Heads that are not alive
Without thoughts
Or sensations
They are the projections
Of the escapist human nature
Do they realize
That they are the new slaves
Of the freed slaves?
Or are they barren, like the surface of Phobos?
I inject the sculptures
With my own sensations
They give me in return
The Lamps of the Valar
The Lords of Kobol, or the Final Five
Or whatever speaks to me
Are the Gods a gift I can give myself
In the state to which I have evolved?
When will we evolve
To see gamma rays and infrared light,
Step outside of the temporal dimension?
Never
We have our place
As sculptures
Out here in the trees
By the stream
Just me and my appetites
Knowledge and wisdom
The hunger never stops