Inconsolably Empty

once upon my waste of time strange I felt my hope, my crime I wander, I groan smashing clay household gods inconsolably empty bound by steel bundled rods fire once in the belly but no true wars to wage a one act redemption small story, small stage tell me finally please my desperate final relief if my father's idols are dead do hymns praise hollow belief? hapless we wonder did the great prankster on high choke on fame, vomit and tithings grown aloof in his sky? we clever cynical ones ironic artisans so smug look up from below sunk in pits that we dug for maybe forgotten in all this as we wallow, we strain, is a lead author not actor leads this short life's refrain for does a god cry for blood or -isms that you praise if the absence of mercy only stoke hatred's blaze? we squabble, we bicker strutting down marbled halls but ending we're all leavened by that final curtain call leaving nothing behind chin up and eyes forward reach for the bright heavens and that final reward can it be halos and harpstrings or virgins unbounded or maybe just ending with shining trumpets unsounded? to ask for meaning means nothing if the ending's the same but authentic hearts will live truer in this heartbreaking game so in ending I wandered down a fog shrouded road unsure of the ending just follow paths as they flowed...