Poem – The Blood of the Innocent

Mankind reaches to be its own Babylon.
It longs to be remembered forever in time.

It dreams of towers
And crowns of powers.

But life is a staircase that goes up and down.
And ancestral spiral of actions and their consequences.

Karma traps some on a treadmill that goes nowhere.
They believe that the beating of their heart is progress.

They sweat and strain but are blind to the trap.
The gold they seek is only thoughts dripping like honey in the mind.

We are a labyrinth of cackling birds and dreams longing to awaken.
While pigs declare themselves gods demanding their followers to wallow in their mud.

Some souls have blood that is born from the passions of freedom.
While others prefer the drunken debauchery of their fermenting hopes.

Long since lost, in the annals of fear.
Because the blood of the innocent leaves no stain.
They are free because their mind is an unclouded moon.
~Suzanne Wagner~