cinders

blessed are those that do not feel
the need, the lust, the hunger
perhaps they are cursed too
inert in their satisfaction

there is a always a price to pay
we all choose our sacrifice
when the cinders are flamed to life
framed by a blood-streaked grin

perhaps this dream will never end
there will be no awakening
the planet will cease to spin
like the hands of a broken clock

and then a hammer will fall
to strike down the unbelievers
but will it be that impressive
if there is no one there to feel it?

----
Look, we are in this together and I am not done yet.