Contention

When found a dogma to follow and song to show faith
A generation will turn and begin its blazon.
The not-so-subtle revolution.
Parents press their morals and morality sinks low
When children’s quarrels become violent in war.
These simple differences cause so much destruction:
From depression to recession and billions of bones,
The modern incapacity to overcome possessions,
The idealized neglect of life and limb only to die.
But when hope of a better world is introduced
And the youthful megalomaniacal fantasies lost
There becomes a movement toward religion.
Something beyond this world of disappointment,
When your body in the next life can’t decease.
And suddenly…
Being a fanatic for what you believe isn’t held in high regard
And the world would rather repeat its past than purge itself.

Our Time Will Fade

A new day will come
But not for us
Not here

Our time will fade

Only a few will make the difference
And new worlds will grow from their deeds
Pray for those few-
future generations depend on them.

New Heights

You can not move but wind will carry your leaves far from where you are rooted
And you will see though them those who have climbed past the corners of the earth.
Your fleeting life will scatter new ones further than you could stretch your branches
And young men will outgrow those that came before and shade the survivors of storms.
I listen to old men and their groaning stories of swaying, and lies of standing tallest
But now men will prune those that threaten to block the sunshine from green lawns
And in summer will curse you because you can’t shade their eyes that look up to you.
Animals hide their secrets behind your scars that used to hold hammocks.
Men who rise above the rest will soon realize no one protects them from the rain
And when they fall, they destroy the lives and bodies of everyone around them.
Most men desire to be tall, raising their arms and soaking up the sunlight
But those men will never see the children who will enjoy your life only for a short time.
Eventually a year will come when your bare arms can no longer entertain spring
And your shadows will scatter between the rays of life and light will permeate through.
I know there is joy in the planks nailed to my hands and ropes that swing from my arms
So I dip my branches low so children can climb to heights their parents never could.