Gold Covered Bones

Warning: This post as a result of Biola assignment.

This generation has curated a society that has everything and yet has nothing. She is extravagant, a statue of gold. But on the inside decaying. Dead bones, gray ash blowing in the wind—nothing. We are born for something. But she said no to true meaning. She saw diamonds, mansions, shiny phones and yachts and chased after bills attached to the tails of decadent lovers. She was king and queens, and yet the kingdom was a pit of empty bottles of booze, the reminisce of strangers chase for freedom, the once boisterous cheers hushed in the empty space. What were the strangers names? No one knows. Who did this society meet? No one. Was it fun? The most. Strangers, little robots walking throughout ivory walkways, perfectly groomed bushes in chase of wild fun. No roots, no connection. The green bills fly and the strangers take. They transform them to life purpose. Materials. So many materials. Greed grows, and so does waste. The strangers leave and reenter,  eyes searching for the Gold, the Jewels, the myriad of New—an endless cycle. What were their names? Still don't know. The sun sets and rises over again. The weather changes. The strangers still show, but the diamonds sit on wrinkled fingers, ivory cloth lays over stretched, drooping skin. Movements are slower now. One step…then another step…but still towards the green candy, the green light. Until one day the chase stops, the decadence decays, silence falls over the group of individual greed seekers. The green light becomes a small spot in the distance until it disappears, moving onwards. What is left is gold covered bones. Laying, waiting to be honored, to be remembered. Heavy blank stones waiting to be engraved. What were their names again? I don’t remember. Thousands of blank stones atop stilled bones and rusted metal sit in darkness of a greenless lit abyss.