I consistently find myself at the base of Darwin's mountain
looking high into the clouds for a peak at the fittest
and wondering which of us were meant to survive.
Meanwhile Dante's simplist vision of Hell plays out repeatedly
as billions of humans push a rock up the side
only to watch it fall back down on payday
when the tax men collect their dues.
For whatever reason could this illusion exist
than in the metaphor of a promised land filled
with all the weath promised by our movie stars?
And so we work as individuals to collect our fair share
only to find ourselves divided against each other
racing towards the top of the mountain.
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