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Mortuus



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Mortuus

Nemesis

You are prophets of your own demise;
As the vastness of hell is expanding in every direction
And you follow it with empty hearts, leaving naught unexplored
Even against your pretended will
And lo! your child-hood fear is the redeemer of the present!

The pulse of death is indifferent to all
Inhuman, faceless, relentless
And you seek freedom therin
In a self-imagined importance
Kneeling with heads bowed to infertile soil

Still you chose to bathe in the excrements of history
In the simplicity of hunger, sleep and pro-creation

In blindness you deemed Satan comprehensible -
Still you can not even see the smallest grain of sand,
In this desert of otherworldly misgrowth
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Where we erase our names from the book of life
And let our voices fade into nothingness
For what could ever be more beautiful
Than the abandonment of it all -
In a self-chosen bestial madness?

You have known it, but stood in denial of your most vile desires!

The construction of the 'I' becomes laughable
This hunger transcends every human impulse
A ray of light in another world raises a shadow in ours
And what difference does wisdom or folly make
When not even one language is discernible in Babel?
A multitude of voices
Angelic, demonic, human, and the silent ones
Unbidden you stand against in the terrible mess of sound