In a dream I wandered through the cathedral of death
the dust and smoke catching me in my throat
as I counted myriad of souls that flew past me
Amazed, were they, at how they now were, lost and bewildered.
And some so fresh, not of the first to die, responders
so called, who came to help, to rescue and became
part of the event, surprised in the act of dying
desperately trying to contact their loved ones
even in death, and the white dust covering all
even those who, in their mistaken belief thought
that they were martyrs and in some spiritual world
for heroes and deservedly so, looking, for virgins
but all they found was disillusion as they wept for
those whom they had dispatched to oblivion with one
fell swoop and through a trick of fate and time they
saw the future and what it would bring and were ashamed.