waking / waiting

called out of our slumber;
to what end will we wake?
into flame or fortune –
no rest outside the grave.

the squat pen rests – not us,
for flesh is fading fast.
yet our souls rot quicker;
mortal men do not last.

for this we toil and break
our backs against the wall.
our spines are weak no doubt,
so on whom do you call?

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