We speak in riddles
With rhythms so ancient
You can’t tell where it begins
Or if it will it ever end
You wonder wisely
If perhaps this is where
It all starts over again
Perpetually reoccurring
Like dreams and nightmares
Or perhaps you might get lucky
Though it's highly unlikely
Unless you are a descendant
Of amorous deserts
And lonely riverbeds
So now we take our siestas
In the oasis of the heart
In a garden of short skirts
And even shorter circuitry
We perfected our learning
Yet even in our hurting
Hundreds of huddled soldiers
With tightly folded souls
And bullets embedded
In disincorporated bodies
Must tirelessly move onward
For you to grieve the leaves
Of yesterday’s disadvantaged