All for nothing

Before wisdom first came ashore
Burdened by the oars of philosophies
Men have been riding wild horses
Mostly for stewing enemies meats
Moments only froze in a crimson
Wounds of a dead animal

Many sunsets later
The same two legged creature
Now upright, carved few screeching lines
On stones, in darkness
Expecting recognition

Dark was the ages, sun drenched in blood
Blew the cover off the desperate
A feathered quill printed a song
And the world began to sing

On a palm leaf, centuries of hallucination
Began evaporating its ink
Whence the words of the Awakened One
Tripitika, Or Three Baskets, dawned
Like a grassy pathways
Through the desiccated deserts
the journey towards wisdom and nobility

Ages hence, the same two legged beast
Murders the same way
Centuries of prints in soft covers
And weighty volumes of speeches
Could not do justice to the world