sometimes we forget
about consequences
we advance with our own
motives
that satisfaction
that fire that seemingly is
consuming every
particle of our being
we become the firewood
the grass
the gasoline that must burn
itself
into nothingness
where is our gene
of Prometheus?
it must be missing for now
we advance as armies hungry
for a kill
and we kill anyone that we meet
after
making a war and
killing all
the enemies
then we kill even friends
as we are hungry
for the killing
for the killing's sake
we have forgotten us
and the incoming consequences of our
ignoble actions
what follows next is
unimaginable
it is a planet of fire
where words
do not exist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem