Another day,
another dollar,
another hero slain.
Another loss,
another cost to pay.
There is no respite from life,
until Heaven comes down,
there is only chaos
in the sounds
and all around.
The people say
that there’s no rest
for the wicked,
for the righteous,
for the slave.
There is no time
like the present,
for the heathen,
for the saved
and the only
thing that’s certain,
is the tax man
and the grave,
or so they say;
those prophets of little faith.
There is no hope left
for the hopeless.
No God for the godless.
No promise
that all this
means anything.
Adrift on the sea
a captainless ship
has let itself slip
into dangerous seas.
Uncharted,
unwelcome,
unease.
Another day comes
and we do as we please.
Some days are just arrows
fired into the Sun.
Seeking meaning,
silent pleading,
that this time
we’ll be someone.
We’ll have purpose,
we’ll know love
and we won’t be alone.
This life
is all about
making it
on our own.
It’s time to let
these faithless prophets go.
HG – 2016
