Taking the story forward,
there are these people, all along the edges
of tyrannies in states of peace,
outlaws and anarchaltypes,
heroes for the meek,
the meekest of them all.
The man who thought, he shot
edgewise, or we are ******* in wrong,
but, he fired off a round
no sweat, see the space we cease being,
doing we the *******,
and we morph, cool way to say, we change
we become the point of life. We the living.
All our ancestors inherited the wind.
We hold it in our fists. Be gentle.
Taste the wind, smell the change