Our Revolution

we are not for the faint of heart:
smiling dejectedly as the sun finally burns out,
and the trees and cities give berth for its coming.
we will watch from park benches and back alleys,
peeling the layers of ingrained ignorance and
half-truths that only brought us part way to salvation.
we will watch as the world burns:
a great pyre of starting over, and all is renewed.
we will say nothing. we will act as nothing,
and if the spectacle isn't studied with enough interest,
we will appear to be nothing
(this is a misconception).
when all is ashes, and not one single inkling remains
of sacred society and its policies, politics, and false prophets,
on barren, scorched obscenity,
where even god or science dare not tread:
there will be our salvation, and we will crawl from wreckage as heroes,
taking up the swords and pens of rebirth,
and atop that rock, so marred and eroded with sacrifice,
there will we build our church.