Preaching to the Dead.

Come forth from that barren and wasted land,
With its cloaked veil of thoughts.
Feigned happiness, blissful innocence,
Until that day
When routine takes its course
For the thousandth time,
When eyes are opened,
To the wasteland.
Time slips by, unnoticed, until it suddenly is found,
Wrapped around the limbs,
Crushing the life,
The disposable life.
That so valiantly served society,
Submitting to its cracking hardships,
Its harshness and cruelty.
Endured only with the hypnotic vision,
That something will be accomplished,
Through the suffering,
And that the prescribed good,
Will benefit all.
And yet, only those who have
The consciousness have a chance.
The ones who see through all the hypocrisy, the lies,
The propaganda.
To do now what they want, to follow dreams,
Awareness of the limited time.
To cut through the fog,
And see reality.
Yet they prefer to remain dead, oblivious to what they see.
None dare take action, lest they suffer loss,
yet in reality, they only prolong their suffering.
Do not let the last golden hope be crushed
Into submission
By the monstrosity.
To find oneself is to find the meaning of life.
Then there only remains to find One more.
The Life