Hymn Beneath the Machine
The world is a coffin where the living crawl. Each morning they wake to sharpen their tongues. To gnash at their neighbors, to bite the soft flesh of their own kin. All to defend the keepers of the vaults, the masters who see them not as souls but as ants. A black river waiting to be poisoned.
Mouths open like empty bowls, they kneel to their own devourers, thanking the hand that starves them, praising the fist that breaks their backs. Their worship is silence. Their prayers the grinding of teeth, as the rich feast on their marrow.
The rich sit like swollen gods in towers that scrape at heaven. They sip marrow from the bones of miners, lace their fingers with the tendons of seamstresses. Burn the oil of our lives to grease the iron jaws of their empire. And still we are told to thank them. To bow as if their cruelty were a blessing.
But I can hear the rumble underfoot. A hymn, a pulse carried by the poor like contraband. It spreads in the cracks of silence, it seeps through a factory dust and smoke. A whisper of solidarity older than kings and sharper than chains.
One day the machine will choke on its own hunger. One day the cogs will seize on the fists that refuses to turn. The earth itself will not stand idle. She will split her belly to bury the gilded tombs of hoarders. Even their palaces will rot. Portraits peeling like scabs in the rain.
It will not be left or right. It will be the starved against the glutted. The buried against the living dead. The children of ash against the merchants of fire.
When that day comes we will not sing softly. We will howl, a choir of graves opened. Our hymns will be iron our voices hammers. From our ruin will rise a beauty that no tyrant can cage. Not a prayer. Not a plea. But blood lit scripture of the damned becoming free.
Ive been thinking a lot about the political climate we live in currently and I cant stop thinking about how it is not sustainable. Part of me hopes for a big change soon, a change that can only be brought out with vil--- actually never mind I should not type that out for the internet. But I think you understand.