Fallen Bridges

I read today
That philosophy has chased its tail
To the end.

We have run into linguistic tangles;
There are no boundaries to Fantasia.
We started out looking for answers
And found only more questions.

Build all the bridges you want,
Make all the friends, allies and lovers,
But you will one day walk back to that wall
Which even the hippies could not tear down.

Pile all your stones, make all the heated,
Alcohol fueled arguments you want while all the
Bridges continue to fall like the sound
Of nails sliding down a dry easer board and
Every day someone great dies in New York City
While the sun slowly wears itself out,
Breathing heat into a vacuum that always
Wants more, wants to know why Socrates
Took that hemlock, eyes focused
On the stars.