NEVER ENDING GRIEF
As some stand frozen in the frigid temperature
of men’s hearts what shall we do
for that grief given them who cannot move?
Power, power is a terrible thing
when it condemns them stuck
in the barren winds of nothingness starving the soul.
Winds that starve the pained and troubled,
we find it easier to look away, easier to save ourselves
alone as one by one our companions fall to the failings
of the opportunity seekers who will never know
that at the last second of life, when the death rattle fades,
all are completely equal.
Everything after is a show for them waiting impatiently
for the vacuum to suck them
into the palace of power over men stuck in sadness,
unwilling to go on,
to fight for a good life,
a kind life anymore.
All is empty of thought
hunger is accepting the truth of worthlessness.
Death’s sting is no worry for the disheartened,
for it is a welcome thing that brings the warmth of the earth
where finally all that is, is without pain or sadness
a lifetime felt for them who have been taken by that icy wind before.
Call me brother no more for I am frozen,
naked and waiting, simply waiting
to be equal to them who destroyed my heart.