i lie in an open grave the stars stare at me in amazement of my foolish beliefs that i was free and could become and attain anything but the stars know for they have watched men for centuries and understand that few are free and that most are slaves to the desires of others though vassals believe it is their desires that command the course of their future but that is mere delusion a systemic inculcation carefully crafted for the benefit of those in power a lie repeated so many times that like a child told to believe in the unbelievable believes a sandstone dream the banks of one’s soul on a raging river of greed only recognized when the shore of faith gives way and you end up in an open grave being stared at by the stars
each brick made from water clay and flesh the flesh of old men raped women and generations of children whose lives are pressed into a mold of slavery and dried in fires of baronial greed and all the while well dressed pakistanis roll-up their prayer rugs so that they may sip morning tea while watching a sunrise of wealth