young, so full of youth,
filled to the brim with
*** and desire and the
quest for flesh,
we are living the lives they
write about
we the young, so full of
uncontained emotion, so
happy to be alive and yet
not even realizing it, we
talk of suicide but never
believe it exists
we are perfect in our
decided ignorance of
our imperfections
(it gives us strength like
nobody knows)
-
spreading across the globe,
to China, Europe, and the
Southern Lands, our disease
is no plague
to the youth of the enslaved
places, to the poor countries,
and those shackled in the old
traditions:
we give to you our itch,
our burn, our aching and
hurting that drives us to
go out and do what needs
to be done
we give to you a reason
to make things better
(just as we give ourselves)
we are the reason
the earth still spins
we are the drive
behind every new
empire
we are the innovators
and the diviners
the makers of tools
and seekers of
riches
the creators of gods
and the gods
themselves
we, so young, so full
of energy and zeal and
lust, we the ones who
create and destroy, we
who so thoughtlessly
hurtle the human race
forward
we take ourselves to bed
each night, not wondering
with whom we sleep or
where we will awake;
knowing only that adventure
is worth having in itself.
that the morning is our treasure
and the new day is more fulfilling
than any golden trinket in the
tombs of the old kings
this we sleep with, smiling,
dreaming of the wild chances
we are challenged to tame
-
so young, so full of youth,
filled to the brim with ***
and desire and the thirst for
a definition in this grey and
blotted world
we awake each day
and drearily attack our
lives
we the pioneers, the philosophers,
and historians
humanity cannot live without us
(and I mean to say they have no
choice)
updated as of 4/1/12