Beautiful humans
here we are,
fraught with eternal upheaval,
behemoths of the soil,
the same soil
we so daringly corrode and replant daily.
is this what you imagined we would become?
have we been able to see through
all the pain and glory,
deviance and
delicate rage,
and come out better for it?
beyond the glimpses
of joy and
misery,
how much have we changed?
dear beautiful humans,
so
strange and remote;
yet close and
familiar.
brother to my left,
sister to my right,
hope to the front and
difference to
the rear,
is this not the ideal?
who are you,
what have you become,
what will you do with
the gift,
here we are,
beautiful humans,
look up at me,
look up from your safe little
silence,
from your concocted prison of
narrow perception,
tell me we are
real;
when everything feels
superficial and
tainted.
fragile beautiful people,
a mass of tender confusion and
lusting for the right way,
how many times
must we throw barbs and
dance in a
wicked moonlight?
how i know that deadly foxtrot, too.
look up at me,
tell me we are worth the trouble,
do we see who we really are?
am I not just a marauding crooner
singing to the empty rafters?
Have we all sang our last song?
Beautiful humans,
so mighty and yet so exhausted,
souls thirsting for reform for it seems
we have lost sight of the sky.
here we are,
beautiful humans, long lived outside
the garden,
from ground dwellers to builders of
empires,
yet the infinite war rages on
and
my last faith remains intact
if only because
I've been convinced
of something
beautiful found
within you and me.
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 5:41 PM UTC
Beautiful humans
here we are,
fraught with eternal upheaval,
behemoths of the soil,
the same soil
we so daringly corrode and replant daily.
is this what you imagined we would become?
have we been able to see through
all the pain and glory,
deviance and
delicate rage,
and come out better for it?
beyond the glimpses
of joy and
misery,
how much have we changed?
dear beautiful humans,
so
strange and remote;
yet close and
familiar.
brother to my left,
sister to my right,
hope to the front and
difference to
the rear,
is this not the ideal?
who are you,
what have you become,
what will you do with
the gift,
here we are,
beautiful humans,
look up at me,
look up from your safe little
silence,
from your concocted prison of
narrow perception,
tell me we are
real;
when everything feels
superficial and
tainted.
fragile beautiful people,
a mass of tender confusion and
lusting for the right way,
how many times
must we throw barbs and
dance in a
wicked moonlight?
how i know that deadly foxtrot, too.
look up at me,
tell me we are worth the trouble,
do we see who we really are?
am I not just a marauding crooner
singing to the empty rafters?
Have we all sang our last song?
Beautiful humans,
so mighty and yet so exhausted,
souls thirsting for reform for it seems
we have lost sight of the sky.
here we are,
beautiful humans, long lived outside
the garden,
from ground dwellers to builders of
empires,
yet the infinite war rages on
and
my last faith remains intact
if only because
I've been convinced
of something
beautiful found
within you and me.
