Does it all come together
In a burst of light
Or a spark of shadows?
Standing down the street
And watching the flames
Tear down the old fortress,
I look to the sky,
The tortured, screaming abyss
Howling at the dusk;
a wounded wolf abandoned.
Hearing the blare of the brass horns
Triumphantly declaring its cautious victory;
The people cheer for structure and order
And reject the children of Reason,
As they cross the border into the forest
Never to emerge again.
I think,
This vapid notion of turmoil,
Which colors the ground with rust
And solitary drops of rage,
Clearly ties a steel rope
around the beautiful people,
fighting, fighting, running,
endlessly through the town
to the next;
can they ever hope to change?