Senselessness sings a siren's song. Deafen your ears or be wrung by the neck. Stay. Remain. Obey the flame. Met with the godless gospel, I reappeared in the wilderness. Relief and phantom pain emerged, And so began the begging. Without the underlying current Of a mystic, guiding hand, Must I obey the call to live Or can I give way and die? Nearby I see homemade gallows, Hastily fashioned ushers of death, Created by those who came before, Unmade by their findings. I cannot commend escape, Even an enlightened one. Like faith it shies away from strife, And forfeits resolve. Both are tragic, groundless, leaps That completely miss the mark. Desperate for the oasis, Succumbing to consoling lies.