Wouldn’t it be Nice?

Looking out the window, sensing something greater is on its way

Feeling the warmth of an oncoming comet marked for rebirth

A resurrection always rests in the back of our minds

Yet

Verification hides around every corner just out of reach until it’s way too late

Reentering the fold under the guise of assisted remembrance

Something that finds itself lost in the void sooner than you’ll learn to crawl

Memories of a past life disappearing into the miles of rugburn carved into our knees

The hair that sprouts releases the potential for incomplete dreams into the fold of unlearned streams of consciousness and hopeless streets

Inter-Dreaming lanes of screaming virtue and fleeing futures

A bass drum flows in triplets through the split care of a fraternal sibling

Only enough energy for one baby, let alone three more of identical disparity

There’s no control in a journey of the soul

A path set before you

Unknown to the masses but hinted at to the individual

Without the proof of a superior being, there can be no hope of observable trends

Most days float into the black like a corpse crushed under the weight of the tracks

Laid by those meant for servitude, indentured or not, slaves to the wills of all those who came before

Blood red cherry blossoms sprout from the holes in our eyes

Blinding us to the truths of those days before

Days of then, when the years made sense and the tears were reserved for those behind a picket fence

Too many journeys rest below our futures

Unheard of as the train of progress carries forward

Forgetting all the don’t fuel its’ journey

Yet

Those forgotten providing the most efficient fuel

Carving from within, the path to the future we all lay in

Without the unselected sacrifice of the trillions before

and a few million more

The tracks would turn to sand and we’d be left staring at the ocean with our one true love in hand

A view and a friend

Now

Wouldn’t that be nice?