Not of time or place, this heart of mine
still beating as loud, this mystery of life
because good answers, a silent kind.
Death is coming for us, each day faster
challenging is our preserve, our purpose
religion made irony a fool for hypocricy.
I’ve been already and continue besides
asking myself how long maybe can take
against the innocent slaughtered by god.
Straining against the mechanical decibel
has always been a humming that’s mine
a wrap against the elements sung within.
(c) August, 2006, RJDuberg
No comments:
Post a Comment