Monday, July 20, 2015


Mystery wraps around her
A mummy with only the glint of her eyes
In this dark placed filled with phantoms
I cannot make out,
Her shape the brightest
As if death’s second life
Has already consumed her
And we live with the blaze
Of her existence
Feeling it scorch our bones
We, the unnamed masses, who
Get buried in the glorious tomb
As tribute to who she was
And who she will become,
Our lust for her life meaningless
Against the praise we must cast upon her,
And do so out of some deeper
Compulsion we cannot resist,
We consumed by her flames
Slave to her life
Chained to her fate
Stumbling into our own doom
Just to heap praise on her,
We foolishly believing
We have wills of our own
And might – if we wanted – do
Something other than what she demands
The whole time feeling her flames
Engulf us.

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