Ripples in the sands of time.
Ripples in the waters of life.
Ripples in the air of the soul
Ripples in the fire of death.

Details quite inconsequential and
you've heard it said the time is near
when those deaf will hear.
You've heard it said the time is nigh
when those mute will sigh.
You've heard it said the time will be
when those blind will see.

Details quite inconsequential and
all ends contradict the pact it made.
For the soul it paid
to be close to god only by going to the
devil's aid.
Times of sound, sight, and sighs are
quite inconsequential
to the threats essential
to the life of us all.

Details quite inconsequential and
lights will fade
and the people, fancy and swayed
to the deeper side of sacrileage,
will cry to be paid for performing
mimical routes of carnage!
For the blood spilled across the sands of time
are merely a repetitive thing given in
rememberance of times long since past.

Details quite inconsequential and
that is,
to the lack in caring for life.
No whim of concern for those fallen.
No thought or wonder of who just might perish.
Minds are as dry and uncaring as the
waters of the Sahara,
in the fact that they are not there.

Details quite inconsequential as
a ripple in the sands of time,
a ripple in the waters of life,
a ripple in the air of the soul,
a ripple in the fire of death.
Find at death
that nothing awaits for your soul to depart,
and learn that life is a neverending
art of inconsequence.