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Modern Problems

Look inside this feverdream we call Our Times:
How we call ourselves masters of our lives
Binding ourselves in chains of thoughts
Forgetting powers we used to have
When we were wild naked beasts
Part of a world dangerous, strong, unfettered,
Free in cycles of creation and dissolution,
Balanced in a perfect dance
With no meaning apart from itself.

See how the world bleeds now
From a thousand different wounds
Opening and closing daily.

See the men who live in fear
Of animal tastes,
Who cage their spirits in cells of confusion

See the women,
Cool and distant on hard city streets
The dark fire they once carried
Now burnt down and out,
Empty, shapeless stones, hearts poisoned with suspicions
Growing  ever thinner...

Thinner like shadows of a picket fence
Fading into uncertain infinities of twilight -

So look at this world we've made my child
See how it turns against its ancient ways,
In places now a thing once perfect
Made weak and warped through our excess

Watch, see how we older ones
Changed with decisions things best left alone;
Persist in your sweet childish madness
Bravely believing in the magic we have ceased to see;
Walk in dreams with your heads held high
Proud to gather the beauty we've forgotten;
Draw it into yourselves and love it
With pure and simple souls

Wed your childhoods to your spirits 
Hold it deep within as a sacred secret
Hidden, but alive with hope of better days to come
When you may fool the dry and empty ones
And bring new life to this fools' desert, Our Times.

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