Ancient Barbers

. for public domain . offered for the innumerable small graves of indigenous children recently discovered Our most harsh cynics, with their gaze ever on the shadows, Hope that Light may someday rise, and illuminate green meadows. They dash false hopes that thrive in the shade, savor truths, cold and grim, stab at chimeras man has made, to slither off into the din. Blades of passing fantasy and Faith, like ancient barbers drawing blood, sooth the Spirit of societal woes, but drain it of its bud.