The Big Bang.

What is it that haunts us always?
Translucent imagery on bespeckled walls.
Shining hearts etched on fading linen,
And a chain that binds us to ancestry?
A parrot that speaks of a plunder, two voyages,
And three or so wenches,
That sail on the high seas.
An omnipotent forecast of a horrible storm,
Coupled with a terrible sense of foreboding.
Photogenic snaps of the city sky line,
Caught on gleaming cell phone cameras.
They perturb us, gnaw at our innermost desires,
An unending wish to be infamous.

Yet we stay as we were,
Chained to where it all started, the womb.