Into the weighted darkness 
Soar the chariots of the gods. 
Winged horses rising like pale clouds, 
Ascending on high, 
Shrouded in mysterious 
Metallic moonbeams… 
Noble creatures 
Energized by the gods themselves. 
Shadowy figures, 
Frozen in time like statues, 
Hypnotized by their unfolding destiny; 
Unable to free themselves 
From the obsession of being gods. 
Forever burdened with the eternal struggle 
For supremacy. 
Never realizing that the weighted darkness 
From which they seek to ascend, 
Is but the tarnished crown of glory 
That once adorned their heads. 
And the butterfly gently maneuvers 
Among the fragrant flowers 
In the garden of merriment and myth; 
Caressed by the summer breeze, 
Anointed by the warmth of the sun, 
Floating free…  
Savoring the succulence of the moment, 
Unfettered by the burden of eternity, 
It lives its brief life 
As an untarnished crown of glory 
In the Creator's breathe. 
Copyright January 1, 1999 JGO/Spanky Mongo