Welcome to the feast,
sit at my table and do not regret
anything that will not be eaten today,
for this is our sacrificial slaughter
that must call out favor
to the Gods' fervor.

We dine without thought of
slave or beast. We, lords
of the second coming,
pass judgement upon those
who tread so softly at our heels
that a whisper of thanks escapes
from their chaffed lips and yet it cannot
be heard even in our pious silence.
They dance for us in cages that
arrogantly stretch from floor-to-ceiling
for their owners,
wrapped in ribbons of ruby and gold
and tops of blackened steel.
The bars hold the imprisoned steady
as they stand tall, true, and unapologetic
to their purpose.

They call for us,
and we, you and I,
as Gods,
must answer them.