Rest In Peace
It began with a whisper.
A soft voice
in the ear of those who would listen.
An underground thought
Blind eyes wandering
stare at the question making cracks
in the status quo
Whispers grow louder.
The idea spreads like a festering weed.
Proof, they ask for,
The blind asking for glasses.
We declare the existence of answers
where there is only speculation.
TV prophets advertise shadows
as an alternative to light.
We have it right.
There is no other way.
O’ we gods of flesh and blood
passing judgement on the unworthy,
for we are the all-knowing.
Death to our opposition
It’s what he would have wanted.
Eden has fallen.
Utopia has risen.
Holy light has been replaced,
by fluorescents and neon.
Love, and respect,
becomes money and murder.
God is dead.
And we killed him.
with our ignorance and pride.
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