archaeologists, astronauts, and time lords
i once preached a sermon, which rambled around on the idea that some christians see the best days of faith as being the ones that the apostles lived, some see the best days of faith being in the future, when we are smarter and wiser and kinder, and some see all days as a good day to love. here is that same sermon, in the form of a poem. ... and for the record, even though i am the third type (which gets the final stanza) i am for hope in all of its disguises.
deep in the vaults of time a word was spoken and died, and lived again and still lives amidst the people of the ancient way who fight to preserve, in these days of confusing echoes fading memories of the moment when the word was understood by the people fortunate enough to have heard it clearly spoken always gazing into that distant past for the concealed keys to the good future 3, 2, 1, ignition word was first spoken, word which death could not silence word which shakes the earth as it lifts off power to pierce the impervious heavens to carry humanity to the previously unreachable. barely comprehended when first uttered, now every day we get closer, see a little more clearly where we are headed riding a rocket ship to the day when this earth is finally as it was meant to be today we wake up drawn into wakefulness by the music of distant dreams held here by the weight of ancient rhythms we reach towards possibilities which have not happened yet bring to light mysteries hidden for centuries time lords, we mine past and future, making certain that the moment when all things are at last possible, when the word is heard, is always right now