Plene Victus

From the glow that envelops me,

bright as the sun, as far as can be projected,

I condemn the grand sellers that be,

for the world so wholly subjected.

Off the subtle grasp of tantalizing images,

we neither see, nor hear, the sensations of undiluted truth,

but revel in the empty promises,

of wealth, and gratification, and unending youth.

Within their realm of consuming materiality,

carefully concealed is actuality’s veracious despair,

and through passage of time’s eternity,

it finds us progressively further unaware.

Fully contingent on the jingle of their chords,

how soothing the propaganda they feed,

we are slaves to their words;

we are the pawns to their greed.