Who Suckle Ancestorsí Blood that Burns

Beyond all time and remembrance,
Between lifeís origin and us,
Lived beings who fought for their beloved offspring
Before they died and left their bodies
To rot,
To become liquid,
To mix with sand
Layered between layers of sediment
Cooked at chthonian depths
Until they became stinking pitch
Hidden from the living in undisturbed graves
Which would sometimes open by themselves
To the disgust of their beloved descendants
Choking them with fumes
And sometimes catching fire
Providing them with sites and smells
For hellish dreams
And as time continued to pass
Others found productive uses for the explosive blood
In the form of oil and gas
And now we honor our ancestors
At an excessive rate
By penetrating their ancient tombs
And burning what remains
Of their bodies
To heat our bodies
And to power our machines.
The souls of our ancestors now live
In the machine.