Just imagine, Gods are buried there
On the surface of planes
Under pressure, they are the masses.
Repent, pray and thank?
No, dream
Everyday dreams of something
Yearning for something

To carry the weight away.
On the shoulders of giants,

The giants stood
Holding glass, fragile glass.
Evaluating, observing, recording

Still dreaming
Telescopic fantasies of
Another parallel life.
Revolving, slowly,
Steady hands show clear visions

And light 
Never fails to show true
Distance

Between Binary
Aspirations or beliefs
Ceasing to share common 
Kinetic understanding.

And yet, progress fails,
Gaining momentum, velocity and strength,
All for nothing to collapse
In upon itself.  Having reached critical mass,
Nothing remains but a string to which we are tied, too
afraid to cut.