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September 11th, 2001 - That Bright, Crisp, Late-Summer Morn
Prayers for the innocents,
the collateral damage
willingly attached to the trigger
of a gun pointing East,
where burned-out husks
of fallen grasshopper gunships
bathe in Crescent moons
swaying to a symphony
of poppies rubbing heads.
Do you still seek vengeance?
And if so, exactly upon whom?
Be wary of the unbalanced scales of justice
hanging from well-oil.ed propaganda,
for it can be too easy
to hate the oppressed,
and love the oppressors.
Who is who?
There was a document
not meant to survive;
found its way through the maze,
into the hands of a then-naive young man.
That document
connects the dots
right back to 1983....
....the paper-trail is there
for the entire world to see.
For those still grieving,
not quite able to process
the many levels of deceit;
not everything was lost
under the bottomless dome
of that bright, crisp, late-summer morn.
Two strangers
faced with a certain reality,
decided not to go it alone.
Instead,
they locked eyes, held hands
to make their final mortal stand.
Do not doubt
how in that fragment,
in that shred of existence
when time momentarily froze,
those two attained a clarity,
a oneness so pure,
many people will never
experience such rarity.
Instead,
the majority fades away,
the majority fades away
in digital numbers
crunching the fix,
hating the oppressed,
loving the oppressors.
And the market stays open
for yet another day.
Justice for all?
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