Oblation

On the floating tomb

like kittens mesmerized by butterflies,
we chase a purpose set beyond surmise,
and we succumb in fiction, we forget,
with each deep sleep, lucidity is reset.

we start from scratch, it’s like the dawn is new
we chant “I’m free, I craft my destiny, it’s true”,
gliding like worms on predetermined paths,
keeping our minds off from the aftermaths.

we roam this floating tomb across the void,
its groins full of the lives it has destroyed,
we are its food, its prey, its next to bury,
life — an oblation on earth’s sanctuary.

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