Fulcrum of the Times

The orchestra of the world become violently overplayed become muted white noise sanely adjusted to a nigh-zero And here where the colors are bright here where we living meet here there are questions, questions all the time can't make anything out, there's nothing but garbled nonsense drowning out a single answer Through the noise the dissonant truth we hate burning wire of gold to follow, made of words ignores irrational fingers pointed by languid vice ignores stones cast by the righteous and justified ignores missiles and bombs and bullets and guns sprung from bottomless wallets all weapons leveled against this disharmony and god forbid and mother help us it won't stop We can hear it and it terrifies us We can hear it now definition creeps back in, terror itself Thus the fulcrum of the times So important are these final lines That they're written here in rhyme Are you broken and chained In a prison of mistakes Or do you have what it takes To reap the fell crop, and a truer world Create? When you hear it, and you will, you'll make the choice and be fulfilled