the Long Sleep of the Righteous

Luciferian flares I own not,

For quiet in the shadow I live,

Dead to the world.

Is there another way to live?

Then I fail to understand it.

Shadow...

A substance more liquid

Than water,

That once it seeps through the skin

It never, never lets go.

I repeat:

The flares I own not.

So tell me, what unmoved reflections

Have you glimpsed

In the depths of their eyes?

An infinity of hells,

Layer after layer,

Fill the souls of men.

And even the freezing cold can burn,

Even absolute silence can deafen.

No?

You don't know what you're saying,

Because you can't talk:

It's a fact that the Lord has not given you a mouth

Or a cock.

You can only play

That stupid trumpet of yours.

Just leave,

And take that celestial instrument away.

For in this time and place,

There are people who long for sleep.

by Jason R. Forbus