In Babel, the sky is the limit, And the sky is Heaven, and in it Is the Hope of man, to escape Together from this his Worldly estate; By his hand he made all men One Under their disc of a Sun Just one more Level to build The stairway to Heaven fin'ly fufilled; But Babel's world is not real The sum of what we must feel Is nothing to heaven above The place that we were thinking of; Cold and lonely and dead Turn ye then, turn your head And behold the size of your task Or return to Babel, where at last-- For failing to conquer the world So Josephus said, were duly hurled From their throne of towering might And cast into confusion and night; Deep heaven is a barren land Unpeopled, awaiting a hand Mandated by God to grasp The scepter enow to start the task.
Author’s note: This is one of a few Babel poems I have written throughout the years. As a template for thinking about the world, it is evergreen. The meter should be 3-3-3-4, and could easily be set to music.