Another delicious day
of languorous lounging
and decadent indulgence...
Sometimes she wonders why she hasn't wasted away,
lacking the true sustenance of life.
She wonders in her languid fashion,
dilly-dallying in bed as another bomb drops far away
but she cannot hear it anymore.
She murmurs conversations
with her equally enervated friends,
all destroyed by luxury.
They have forgotten the passion,
forgotten the cruel sweep of the north wind
and the gentle touch of true love
in their torpid lives.
She has forgotten her zest for all things in her easy luxury--
forgotten what it was to feel,
forgotten how to think for herself.
We are all dying slowly...
as we lose our passions, our fire dies out
and we stop burning.