Every day a flower carries,
some things stay, while others vary.
Free them! Seize them! Help the slaves!
Bedlam, dead men, purple haze!
Fan that flame quite happily
to stoke your rage to apogee,
Black men, white men, yellow too
they make us mad, and so do you.
Are there creatures void of grace,
or is our fear just out of place?
Roiling with the best of them,
boiling over to the brim.
Anger doesn’t end at all;
surrender and begin your fall.
Governments won’t take our slack;
they hoist their problems on our backs.
Religions lose their prayer ‘holy,’
while news stays focused narrowly.
Yet a vision we’ve hardly known
brews within us, cover blown.
Time is coming to an end;
it’s not too late to call a friend.
Rendered free within the dream
like icy pearls inside a stream
or seeds the size of melon carts
and mysteries within our hearts.
Are you ready for the now?
because it’s coming anyhow…