Rolling the dyke
Wide arm so open
With no strings attached
Racing for the finish line
With heart still pumping
Think, where, when
What will happen to the children?
The jungle of a place
What matter has no longer existed?
What is trending is so distorted.
What we are now is limited.
Real color becomes an art for condolence.
You cannot see what is real.
Separation of the heart from the soul
When will children have a break?
Over the sea the danger looms.
Distortion of imagery
The eye services, the adversary,
The muddles, jumbles, and nimble
The ones you can no longer trust
Those that you can never see again
Those that made it a race
When and where can they have a wondrous place
In amidst of it all
Pray for sanity, for peace, for love, for merciless peace
A time to sit down and raise your hand
A place to quietly wipe the tears
Because the trust is still up in the air
When you can feel, see, the loss of a golden furrow