Heavy, wet, warm, suffocation settles
across the faceless mask of humanity,
Breathing in its desperate whisper of reality-
a sweat of bitter remembrance
Stale with the scent of metallic blood-
humankind waters the thorny and delicate roses
With a trail of tears that have fallen sanguine from the vulnerable
SOLDIERS: Boys. Girls. Mothers. Fathers. Brothers. Sisters. Sons. Daughters.
Staining the earth with the sin of Cain,
We mourn with the powerless dirt
in sorrow of inevitable destruction,
Knowing it will one day cover our eyes in indifferent equality,
When we will all die in glorified insanity,
And rest in an emptiness so large, we call it freedom.
Broken, unwanted spirits become storm clouds,
Their rage kicking up the dust
In a tumultuous windstorm.
Blinded by the debris, we try.
Try, sweet one, try as though you cannot fail.
For this life hardens even the softest hearts.
Once the shimmer of pebbles settle,
Watch your step;
We dance with clumsy feet that crush the brittle and broken
Skeletons that were left behind by clumsy men:
Men with fear. Men with hate. Men with greed. Men with guns.
When withering love becomes gaunt and crippled from neglect,
They fight to win a battle that cannot be won;
To be human means to be a mother of destruction;
And to be God means to forget all compassion.
Fire was a stolen gift we destroyed ourselves with.
This power was the evil behind the naive bullet
That fed the ravenous flame with naked flesh.
They blind out the light with crystal rain
In a night of broken glass and shattered dreams.
Stolen gifts never last.
The flammable ones are the first to burn,
Doused in their own forgiveness.
But try, sweet one, try though you know you will fail.
When they come for you at the Masada,
Be the last to jump,
And the first to fly.
This life leaves us all condemned;
For I have seen even the disease of love
Murder the hearts of many men.