Babel On

by Bob Schwartz

Babel On

What is the point and price of
The tower of words and thoughts?

High and fine
To reach higher and finer.

Was God protective,
Jealous even,
Of the secret word
That would reveal all
And make him redundant,
Obsolete, inferior?

Or was it a sign
We couldn’t read
That in the clouds,
On the moon,
Mars, the stars
We would find nothing but ourselves
Still babbling
Going nowhere?