The dead lay withering in their cold carnality,
Kiss their beds, till living is seized from them.
Fated in fatality, at the table of their declination.In this grave, a man was born… amidst the dead.
Reading the vicinity, he beheld worthless dads.
peck on the distance, and cry in this stanceIn response, the dead woke petting him to sleep with them.
But was embalmed with this;
Fated in fatality, at the table of their declination.In this grave, a man was born… amidst the dead.
Reading the vicinity, he beheld worthless dads.
peck on the distance, and cry in this stanceIn response, the dead woke petting him to sleep with them.
But was embalmed with this;
‘What is thy fate O living, in sheol?’
Yet he faithed in himself, faithed in God.
His name, the name of aliens.
His name is Me.
Distance mentor distance, filling the gulf twixt two.
I am the one in the distance, the gulf to be filled.
I am the man searching for breathe,
The one in need of many mentors.
I am the one to be fed in the victuals of the wise.
One amidst the dead.
My voice is loud and clear, violating the grave.
Shall I save my spittle, to have its dreams thereof?
Or shall I brace silence to honour the dead?
My head stands above this dreamless sea.
While I am trusted out of the garden of the dark grave,
I press on to kiss the bliss of the light of the living!
2 thoughts on “AMIDST THE DEAD”