Resistance

In true-spirited Resistance the heart remains sweet soft and pliable, a fruit of all seasons. But the mind turns inward and ties itself into a knot sits in motionless silence like a bolted statue. No marching down streets like remote controlled mannequins, chanting soulful mantras with rugged voices. -That births no change. We envision a brutalized mule refusing to sip at the stream because it knows to live is to die and we become.