if you're feeling faint from chalked-up, grim and fleeting tumults
wrapping their weight upon your heavy head; if you're cursing the dust,
plucking strings off the scalps of your guitars and wishing, silently, to be emancipated
or if you're worried your future's been written upon untarnishable paper,
burned inflammably into the minds of your predecessors
and that you'll die in the haze of a coming apocalyspe,
know that life is very sparse, know that you must scrounge for shelter,
kill for water and hunt for food, but salvation lies in the forests where you've yet to wander,
rivers with rocky shallows still untamed and
watching out for you all the while,
we've thought up a plan
that we might hide you in dusk and storm
and you might be the harbinger of our day (your day),
that endless day which plume-like ascends the sky
and is recieved
in a procession of light. |
Submission Name: Les jeunes
