In The End!

madness, churning, burning,
turning on a spit....
they feed the fire with the bodies,

drink the blood of the expendables.
life bruised, pulsing, throbbing,
all stand naked in the end!

and only the flesh that stinks with being,
finds the path of true holiness!
the street vendors, and the charlatans....

laugh to hide from the sound,
of the tiny beat of a single heart,
a universe inside itself!

in the end the crows will eat the flesh,
of those that bought and sold;
who traded souls for power,

and were consumed by their own hunger!
and the guns will lay silent on the ground,
tombstones for empty graves....

the wind will moan with children's voices...
for man hath judged himself!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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