Ishtar

Poem about the futility of importance.

Ishtar

 

From afar, our Sun's a star,
a wee grain of sand
lost within immense scalar
spaces that expand.

 

Buried in the gray
of the Milky Way.

 

Does it matter what we are
on this stellar strand?
Neither pauper, nor a czar
is much more than bland.

 

A mite's world is prey:
cat, dog, horse, or jay.

 

Time alone obscured Ishtar
and her priestess band.
Once she was Love's exemplar;
now where does she stand?

 

They no longer pray,
underneath her sway.

 

Where's the Nobles of Navarre?
Whom do they command
with the lure of pinot noir,
and their heavy hand?

 

Animated clay
gives way to decay.

Reviews

[NeiL ArandA]

In the grand scheme and scene of the universe. We are but a gnat on the surface. We could really be lost in the futility of who's the most important and how really insignificant we really in the grand scheme of life. But in the eyes of the One that really fashioned and created us in His own likeness and image. Man is His crowning creation. The main object of His own love and affection.

[Aethereal]

Thanks for your review, Neil! We're the Consciousness of Reality. Consciousness is One and immortal no matter where it is in time and space. Reality is a synergy.

[Sami Khalil]

"Time alone obscured Ishtar
and her priestess band.
Once she was Love's exemplar;
now where does she stand?

They no longer pray,
underneath her sway."
A splendid read and write...Thank you for sharing...:)

[Aethereal]

Thanks, Sami! Yes, serious religions have a way of morphing into mythologies as time passes.

[Sami Khalil]

You are right...And welcome...:)