The Maw Lyrics

I stare into the jaws of existence
and gaze upon the maw.
Teeth stained black
with our accumulated remnants,
iterations and reiterations
of the true fellowship.

God sits in his luminous hell
and watches his reflections below:
legions of future corpses
marching down the gullet;
chaos at feast
today
on the carrion of
tomorrow.

Here is his creation, made in his image:
its horror covered with metaphor,
the churning violence
rationalized
beneath the language of the mundane.

"God is in his heaven,
All is right with the world."

Yet I hear the infants cry
in the graveyard of our creators,
For they, too,
look upon those jaws from inside.
Swaddled in their first coffins,
their primal bawling
reverberates throughout the
yawning cavern.

Do those screams
reach their parents' ears?
Does their significance
register with the new gods,
their creators
in their own lustrous purgatories?

They say
the maw of hell is gaping;
the maw of death, ravenous,
and insatiable.

They say
the night is dark
and full of terrors.

They say
long is the way
and hard,
that out of hell
leads up to light.

And yet I hear the cries.

I hear
the agonized wailing
of the next crop of
lottery winners,
waiting to be stoned
by their neighbors.

And I wonder:
what does that say
about ‘them'?
About the night?
The way?
The maw?

I stare into the jaws of existence
and witness chaos at feast.