In the amalgamation of days, we forge a merciless kingdom
In the amalgamation of days, we forge a merciless kingdom,
Telling stories of a future where fear and betrayal share a cold kiss.
A land of howling blizzards, where the heart freezes to find its place,
In a battle for surface, where all tread upon each other, so that no one sees anymore.
Thirsting for a painful progress, we cultivate thorns in the fields of thought,
Cloaked in silk garments, hiding a dreadful and cruel truth.
We desire technological advancement, yet we grow more lost in humanity's soil,
Where the soul melts into steel, and we no longer adorn ourselves with the flowers of our own feelings.
We will raise fortresses of iron, forging ahead on dark paths,
Building an inverted Eden, where pleasure is banished, tears - currency of exchange.
We crown progress with crowns of thorns, scripting our own treaty of rich pains,
A utopian hell in which we all live, but no one dares to dream anymore.
And what do you see now, the shimmer of this world we create?
It is a tragic truth, for harshness is the path we willingly assume step by step.
More adept at hiding its face, yet with each moment, more savage in its name,
Towards a frontier of shadows, where even love is transformed into thin, cold chains.
The earth beneath us succumbs to the squealing of dehumanization's wheels,
We grow quieter in indignation, yet more rebellious in the imprint of silence.
We build an altar of remorse, where we sacrifice the last drops of daring compassion,
And in this iron liturgy, we discover that progress is, in fact, the pyre on which we burn.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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