With a gentle rumble,
gravel tumbles beneath
the feet of turmoil.
Grumbling stomachs of children
fed on nothing -
nothing but hope in "maybe"
nothing but daydreams
nothing but realities -
barred unapologetically.
We are all born
under the same fire, night and light -
although the wind blows
through different trees and scenes.
With a gentle knock,
upon walls of rock and steel
are tiny hands of possibility -
chalking smiling faces
and messages for another one,
for someone -
someone dear to you
someone awaiting that "day"
someone to bring prosperity -
barred unapologetically.
The charlatans would turn
Christ away,
dying
corrupted humanity -
greed and misanthropy.
Just innocent, victims and families
they're wailing away
tired -
and afraid
at our spray painted pearly gates. |