Hear the world’s excited march towards oblivion.

At times joyful,

sometimes mournful.

Nearly always neglectful.

Twisting the beat for a buck.

Losing the verse.

The chorus rips away from its moorings.

Sound bitten wounds.

Context bleeds out into unconsciousness.

The repetitive cycle,

… of continuing coverage.

Against this,

the smouldering embers of the Nazarene flicker.

Rising to announce the fast approaching end to the night.

The resistance of the hopeful,

burned into forever,

crossing out the mind-numbing persistence;

in revolt against the thieves of existence.

Wresting control

from the restless repeat of Sisyphus and his

modern disciples of defeat.

---

(RL2016)