no more waiting for godot dammit

The helm is hardly battered, merely dented,

swords barely blooded, maidens hardly bedded,

that is the truth of things

 

stay hungry stay foolish

useless bleating from the mouths of sheep

where is the going?

when is the coming?

what is godot and why isn’t he here yet?

 

this isn’t a waiting, it’s a doing

we’re all doing,

diligently doing,

until we’re dead and done.

 

Fly fly fly we must fly!

Out the windows,

give me fields of ice,

bodies of heat,

 

Give me the true air!

 

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