they revel at their genius
seduced by 'progress'
in serine slumber
they awake only too late
in time to gasp
at their own machinations
their ideals
never breath life
never felt love or hate
their ideals
lively corpses in
glass and formalin
labeled for posterity
and for dead ideals
blood flows freely
greed or righteousness
they fight
they seek to establish their order
founded on dead ideals
some of them in dismay
desperately seek a falling star
to wish upon
or borrow its light
to see their dreams
a valiant savior
of many faces and names
a single purpose
to deliver them to paradise
but most see their savior
in 'heroes'
no longer distinguishable
from villains
they once sought to slay
and to them
they hold their candles
to them
their heroes no different
from villains
but for now
they revel at their genius
seduced by 'progress'
in serine slumber
they will awake only too late
in time to gasp
at their own machinations
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