Too late

It is always too late

To row back from the carnage wrought

By the unfettered march of your own fucking hubris

As gladly we build the pyres

And heaped conceit upon conceit

In a towering furnace fueled by vanity and scorn

We watched the embers of rationality

Spiral into the stained plateau of the sky

Songs were sung

And tributes were paid

As the fires burned and the bodies were heaped

We raised vast totems

And eucharists of celebration

To a new era of thought and worship

From which there will be no deviance

Banners unfurl across scarred stone

Ice shines in the eyes of the guardians of a new credo

Embers drift back to earth as chains

Constricting... binding...

Biting into pale skin

Chafing to bloody sores

As gladly we beg for more

More pain - more punishment

Rictus grins split broken lips that erupt blood

CHoking us with the dorwning carmine finality