The Messiah Never Comes

Shadows choke the cradle of the dawn. The prophets bleed in silence.

And the messiah never comes. Ash rains down on the trembling earth.

History roars like a furnace unbound. Voices of the broken rise and collide.

A nation split open, a soul crucified. Bodies of the dreamers writhe in

unrest. Choking on prayers that rot in their chest. Time is a

grave with its mouth opened wide. The promised light decays from the inside.

Where is the fire that cleanses the world? Where is the crown for the

nameless and worn? Where is the hope that the prophets foretold? Drowned in the