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
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