121. Chafing (Myshkin, 2021) · couplets

There is another thing for you and me, The story of how magic came to be. If I could tell, if language didn’t crush, I’d paint you pictures with my broken brush. But all we have is hints and groans and soul, We’re running out of virtues to extole. If we were robots, arguments would land We’d self-improve, grow up and understand. But growing up and waking up are split And we don’t see the need for both to fit We go to school, or jobs that stultify We slowly fade, and never wonder why. I want to play with God in His backyard My grandma’s hands knew love, and working hard But children of today are growing stiff And zombie-walking off the nearest cliff. We murder passion, bureaucrat’s revenge For slave mentality will self-entrench The darkest days are coming to us all... Our pride ignited, beckoning the fall. We built our Godless temple, golden calf We split the only living tree in half And turned the leaves against the roots that bind Who’ll nourish everyone we left behind? Community is seeded every dawn, We wake up weak, but something’s coming on We warm to want the wave to overwhelm And doorways open up to every realm. By choosing wisely, we engender hope Was spirit wrong to give us too much rope? Or will we seed the light and find the way? I’m here. At last. I cry. And laugh. And play.