[untitled]

Gather around hollow bones
Come hearken to me.
May you learn that
You know not how
Much you’ve missed the
Mark of your ideology.

Ideals can be one’s enemy.
But who could understand
Why you sleep in such a
Stupor? How true it is:
Ignorance is the place
Of final resort in a Land

Whose people have forgotten
Where they have come from.
Perhaps you too have forgot.
For you’ve lost yourself and
The outcome of such a dance
Is hard to make undone

When you’re dancing to
Your own death.
But the strange thing is
You’ve already died.

And you know it not.

Originally written
3 November 2003

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