Undying Love

The world dies as the earth is born. The poor were bred to give thanks to the skies that spawned their hatred and migration towards the sands of their destiny. My statue to myself corrodes to give birth to a new city of life and as I see the decay set in I believe we are all born dead and it is only after we realise we are dying that we are born alive, only to die by ourselves, with friends or without, liked or disliked, with God or without. Love is gentle and forever. Like the earth, as in the statue, to be born with the dying is to be born with the free.

Though I feel my body is raped and my thirst squenched in fire

Though I feel my body stir and my feet bear pains to walk

May I long for claws to rake my body with iron and steel to cut and thrust, spilling my blood with ease and paving a way for serpents to feel free to devour my flesh, consume my gold and strip me of my armour.

Let two men approach me and offer holy bread so that I may break out my tongue and feel guilty of filling my belly with the cleansing of the soul.

I see a man deep in thought as a child reaches up with fingers outspread, innocently pure.

I see vanity and ugliness posed before me making me glance away so as to avoid contamination of my thoughts already confused.

Victory speeds through a city while another city is reflected in the torched eyes of it's women who are cast behind the image and in front of the reality of bonded subjugation.

A boy poses with his gun then hugs it to his chest in a loving gesture of pride and youth.

As lightning stands over me I know now it has all been in vain. The terror, the futility, the waste, the ultimate goal.