Spring
A young boy stood on the Aventine hills
And watched the future unfold in front of him
He saw the industrialization of mankind
Their souls powered by steam
We have tasted the waters of a billion ecosystems
The sound of bombs, sooths some child in Baghdad
Survival and solitude
Sacred lands full of stone
He saw the European Renaissance
The age of discovery
The telescope expanding the borders of consciousness
The restoration of humanity comes slow
It moves and continues into the future landscapes not yet thought of, not yet built, not yet wakened by the thinking brain.
He wants no more bloodshed
No more repression
Just the lush gardens that glisten under full moons
And the clearness of ice
If only he could remember the world how it was
Full of vibrant chants
And mystical monasteries with spiral staircases that reach out and touch the circumference of earth.
Copyright © Turhon Mcdowell | Year Posted 2017
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