Ouroboros


I am a Zombie, possessed by the dead
Who speak to me softly words best left unsaid,
Directing my thoughts to the darkest of dooms
Where at the gates of hell, salvation looms...

My heart and my lungs are like two aching holes
Pumping life's blood into their hallowed souls,
The blood connecting womb of all mankind,
If there's an answer then it's there to find.

Oh Lord above I pray have ears to hear
When I was young you were always so near,
I thirst to know what I shall die to be
My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

Oh soul! Go dig a well so deep in the ground
It taps the spring where living waters abound,
Waters so purified by living loam
They fertilize fresh shoots from old rhizome.

Our gods are dead but they haunt our marrow
Pointing the way to a new tomorrow,
Invoking a vision of paradise
And paying the price with their sacrifice.

If life's to be worth living we must dream
And dreaming, we must wake, and dreams redeem:
Our gods must germinate and be reborn
Transfigured, and of superstition shorn.

copyright Ron Stephens 2013
all rights reserved