The Way Home

Nothing But the Whistle and the Steam ~ Brent Harris

During earlier eras when detail truly counted
Beauty embodied function, not merely form
An age’s values in stone and metal recounted
Not for all of society; but it defined the norm

Still today, riches and power our fates decide
Lead our dance, whether we know, care why
Throw their hubris into the void, but they lied
Phallic structures, sharp and shiny, stab the sky

Love, worship; their needs more than demand
Touted as art, as progress, taunting every before
These alone cannot carry any to the distant land
No matter our start, we’ll reach Elysium’s shore

We see epiphany’s shadow self when we see art
Weakly reflected, a scrying glass, polished dome
Art’s mirror not crystal ball enlightenment starts
Seen in the right place, time, shows the way home

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