Salvation forgotten,
Meaningless in the abyss
Of existence we are thrown into.

As if it mattered anyways,
When the world was structured
On top of a man bleeding on wood,
Absurdity and a pinch of the obscure
For good measure.

There was never a more convenient time to measure,
But how many martyrs did we use?
Jesus man,
I’ve forgotten now,
I thought you had counted.

Well,
Let’s say one for good measure.

And pick him,
So easy writing prophecies when
Things have already happened
And we will fill the remainder with dreams.

Nobody reads the footnotes.