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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Wakening World A new world spins kaleidoscopic, a whorl of color in revolt. Oceans quake, molding into fissures of tectonic hunger, ravaging the deep, stirring the primal need depressing populations unseen to the denizens of land, left in man’s wake. From diatom, to whale, from single cell, to open hand from sun, to star, to mushroom bomb, we have light. Within the orb of eye, retinal flares of light an inside-out, upside-down, yin and yang revolution; juxtaposing wealth with poverty, throngs rise asking for hand- outs, aching with a human need to know, hungering. Childhood ends as the predestined ouroboros wakes. Death’s rattle subsides, as head eats the tail of depression. Communication becomes the global antidepressant. Aborigines in Australian huts and Inuit in igloos see the light. There will be no holding back the tide, for hand in hand, cells wake. No longer can knowledge be held. “Phone home,” a revolutionary cry, the breast will not be ripped from the lips of hungering humanity, tyrant and saint will be juxtaposed, their time at hand. Instant contact scrapes the barnacles of blight handily. The stroke of fingertip to keyboard or keypad depressed sends ignorance fleeing, freeing the knowledge hungry; showing the way out, the way up, the key. Light-heartedly heads bow in prayer, the we will rock you will revolt. Let tyranny be eaten, and righteousness wake. On the egg of earth, we float in celestial wakes. Solar tides stir the shards of glass raising death’s hand. Round and round the top spins each revolution forced by the pumping thump of nuclear rods depressed, rods magnetized or charged with lightening will energize the populous for we all hunger. Evolution brings revolution, each thirst quenched brings new hunger. Repression will never depress the desire to wake, nor, will the fisted hand ever bring the light.
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