I felt it slip through my fingers

It seared my skin yet I felt no pain

And, as it fell to the floor

I heard it groan like a wounded animal

When I looked down

I could not see it

Hear it

Taste it

Smell it

Love it or hate it

Yet I felt it's breath on my neck

As I struggled

To cling on to this lost soul

I used to believe

I used to believe in good and bad

I used to believe in greater things

I used to believe in lesser things

I used to believe in everything

But now

I've lost belief in belief itself

I saw burning on top of the world

I saw looting on the roof of the world

I saw clouds make shapes

Like angry hands

And I listen to the names on the list

As the roll call sighs

When it breathes out

The names of the dead

There are others

There will be more

If death is a number

Then belief is a curse

Or worse

(c) David Stansfield 2008