Ages will pass and no one will know
The slavery of the soul, by the skillful mind
The dying embers of the hearth are there to remind, of a time
Of roaring fire, of warmth, of light and of hope
The warm soup, down the throat, warming the hungry winter belly
Feeding the body as the soul starves
“Appreciate what you have lad, do not ask for more!
The food of our table is already compromised, what need do I have of your gluttony?”
Acceptance, the cold stone floor, the bed
No story for peace, a kick is all that you need
The stone as pillow
To find a comforting world of one’s own
With warm soup to satiate, with warm quilt to comfort the soul
Uneasy sleep by the dying embers of the hearth
Slipping into the endless night, with no hunger and no plight.