Revision
The seedling may angle upward toward the light
for the reason that we climb mountains.
This world though is not a Skinner box.
We do not ascend for the pellet of reward,
but that we might fall. This was human
evolution before the alien came
to catch us,
and I’m the villain?
You search the skies for your Savior,
while I stand before you
in unadorned Armani.
You fancy that he is a bird, a plane.
You dream of flight and forget
that failure is ascent, and every precipice
ends in the pit,
as it will for this dying son
of a dying world. This jaundiced
Morning Star will crack the eastern sky,
and then I will dream
of bodies in free fall
under a red sun.
~~~
Edit: Went with something a little different, not sure if it's moving in the right direction or not.
Original
It is not important that we climb mountains,
but that we fall. This was human
evolution before the alien came
to save us from it. He’s there
to catch us, and I'm the villain?
I'm the only Savior; I just don’t wear it
on my Armani. You believe
he's the best of us—this Pinocchio,
this media construct. You search the skies,
see the clouds part,
and ask if he’s a bird, or a plane.
You dream of flight and forget
that failure is the seed of our ascent.
I also dream of the precipice and the pit,
and of bodies in free fall
under a red sun.
The seedling may angle upward toward the light
for the reason that we climb mountains.
This world though is not a Skinner box.
We do not ascend for the pellet of reward,
but that we might fall. This was human
evolution before the alien came
to catch us,
and I’m the villain?
You search the skies for your Savior,
while I stand before you
in unadorned Armani.
You fancy that he is a bird, a plane.
You dream of flight and forget
that failure is ascent, and every precipice
ends in the pit,
as it will for this dying son
of a dying world. This jaundiced
Morning Star will crack the eastern sky,
and then I will dream
of bodies in free fall
under a red sun.
~~~
Edit: Went with something a little different, not sure if it's moving in the right direction or not.
Original
It is not important that we climb mountains,
but that we fall. This was human
evolution before the alien came
to save us from it. He’s there
to catch us, and I'm the villain?
I'm the only Savior; I just don’t wear it
on my Armani. You believe
he's the best of us—this Pinocchio,
this media construct. You search the skies,
see the clouds part,
and ask if he’s a bird, or a plane.
You dream of flight and forget
that failure is the seed of our ascent.
I also dream of the precipice and the pit,
and of bodies in free fall
under a red sun.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson