Between the Dying and the Dead - Near Death Condition

Zombified workaholics labouring

Turning this malediction into voluptuousness

Satisfied with worthless achievements

Soul-destroying and trivialising

Making us impersonal

Adopting life styles that we do not like

Soldiers, slaves to consumer society

Transformed into objects without a spirit

In pursuit of temporal goods

Moving away from the inaccessible eternity

We are but frantic zombies

Consumers of flesh in all its forms

Satiating day after day our vile needs

Repeating the same empty gestures

In an unconscious funeral march

I’m searching in vain for a metaphysical link

Between our most repetitive acts

Those marking the rhythm of our day

And that certainty of nothingness

Breaking through my insomnia

We live in the shadow of death

We’re worshiping it behind derived imagery

From crucifix to images of God

From labour to our foolish amusements

Without knowing that death is guiding us

We’re continuously running away from it

Giving meaning to our lowest acts

But suffering from all sorts of sickness

There is a time at which one must die to remain worthy

The fear of void in our hearts

Afflicted souls refusing the inescapable nature of death

We are aimlessly wandering

With the sour taste of a meaningless life

Into the anteroom of Nothingness

Between the dying and the dead