No, no no no I will not escape
This glorious trap of pillows and blankets.
I will be restrained
Til buzzing continues until I find release
And shout, angry at my freedom.
Sing for the day is dismal,
Gray and foreboding with promise.
Oh, joyous foreboding, go away
Until I hear a drip.
A drip. A slosh, a slip. That is all
I ask of this day.
Sing the song, embrace the ritual. The ritual of
cleansing.
Clean away the sacrifices of yesterday.
Today's ashen bones are ground, their scent already
Excites the mind with the promise of new life.
And O! The liquid. That ruddy muddy liquid
Pours forth from the gods. In supplication
I hold my hand forward to drink
From the cup of Today, the cup of Awakening.
Sing the Song of Glory:
Ow! Hot. Black as tar. More please.
- Jack Holder
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