Dirt.

Save the child from suffering irrelevant wounds caused by information deemed important.
A hundred times and more I would sit engulfed in flames of eternal damnation, observing realities that had no baring to me, structures of society that were designed to harm and castrate innocence.
We would live as one and many; feathers flying from our heads and dirt on our soles, pausing only to relieve hunger and fatigue, for no amount of gun fire can kill the dream, only empty stomachs and tired minds.
To live peacefully with an empty pocket and a stone for the world in your hand, inspires too few for it is the rarest of existences

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s