In our dreams we receive the transmission of space,
We convert our physical consciousness to radio,
To relay, and watch in such graphic lucidity
The tales the universe would have us wake
When we look with our simple hands to the soil,
We lovingly caress the worms, the silt, the ruins,
Engage our worldly meanderings into the world
And hold out to the sky such succulent dirt to claim
For the heavens, for the stars, for the power of the sun
Transfix our simple human fondling with simple energy
Unknown, and we try to form it into an order that we relate,
That makes sense to us in the precious small moment of fate
And we have crafted such righteous structures towards the clouds,
We have formed and formed in attempt to surpass the will of sky,
We have built such massive complex of sorcery
Only to befall once again our simple hands in earth
The Jupiter gates of Babylon sprawled out to the landscape,
Surrounded, adjoined to the ancient buildings of Jerusalem,
The giant statues of our fallen gods,
The temples to ishtar and rah that have stood many test of time,
And I found myself away in a dream last night viewing such wonders,
I used my technology that we have developed to record such a sight,
To send it home to my parents, to see side by side these miracles,
These testaments of mans form to the heavens they are beneath
And I held the video camera and panned the horizon,
Moment after moment these powerful cracks in the martian sea,
It was a tourist that I had become and in awe looked past the gates,
And there was no future, but a vast craggy eruption, a blank
This wild deformed vacuum making an end, an asunder to scape,
And I assumed it in my own small stupid wisdom an end, a desolate,
A place of no return, and this historical conjunction of place
Was but the last remnant of the skys permitting our taste, our build
And I am no Marduk, I am no son of god, I am a formed creature of dirt,
One that under the rains, under the pulls of the bodies celestial,
Gestate on this awesome vision in what we shall find past the gates,
And why, in Babylon, and why in Jerusalem, and why here do they meet
James Browning Kepple
We convert our physical consciousness to radio,
To relay, and watch in such graphic lucidity
The tales the universe would have us wake
When we look with our simple hands to the soil,
We lovingly caress the worms, the silt, the ruins,
Engage our worldly meanderings into the world
And hold out to the sky such succulent dirt to claim
For the heavens, for the stars, for the power of the sun
Transfix our simple human fondling with simple energy
Unknown, and we try to form it into an order that we relate,
That makes sense to us in the precious small moment of fate
And we have crafted such righteous structures towards the clouds,
We have formed and formed in attempt to surpass the will of sky,
We have built such massive complex of sorcery
Only to befall once again our simple hands in earth
The Jupiter gates of Babylon sprawled out to the landscape,
Surrounded, adjoined to the ancient buildings of Jerusalem,
The giant statues of our fallen gods,
The temples to ishtar and rah that have stood many test of time,
And I found myself away in a dream last night viewing such wonders,
I used my technology that we have developed to record such a sight,
To send it home to my parents, to see side by side these miracles,
These testaments of mans form to the heavens they are beneath
And I held the video camera and panned the horizon,
Moment after moment these powerful cracks in the martian sea,
It was a tourist that I had become and in awe looked past the gates,
And there was no future, but a vast craggy eruption, a blank
This wild deformed vacuum making an end, an asunder to scape,
And I assumed it in my own small stupid wisdom an end, a desolate,
A place of no return, and this historical conjunction of place
Was but the last remnant of the skys permitting our taste, our build
And I am no Marduk, I am no son of god, I am a formed creature of dirt,
One that under the rains, under the pulls of the bodies celestial,
Gestate on this awesome vision in what we shall find past the gates,
And why, in Babylon, and why in Jerusalem, and why here do they meet
James Browning Kepple