Of Flesh and Worship

In an anemic glacier they think they found the truth

With their circulation wilted and broken

They kept the beat as the ice had emoted

To stop the cognitive erosion

Within frozen blood, the ice at its most ferocious

Lies the confluence of flesh and worship

They think they’ve found the truth

We think we’ve found them

You think you found the truth

I think I found you

As the earth vomits blood, its guts on our jaws

The individual experience is a hostile, indifferent existence