How it… was?

When lands were divided with words etching borders,
when little specs of space in time all lived at the centre
and honoured our antiquity, the narcotic nostalgia.
They didn’t know they didn’t know.

So simple then, and wondrous to believe in
an unseen force, to dominate and cushion,
who whispered behind them the perils and virtues
on their spec, a soiled disc, a conjured enclosure, bound
by fantastic, immortal horizons.

Drowned in their purpose and kneeling for dreams,
praising, repenting and hoping to please,
speaking to the sky, not raising an eye,
living out the divine, intellegent design, to a
void, the world, so confused, so uncertain.