Song and Story Night.

ImageHey, I love you.

You were the bone of my being
I mean, I owed my dreams to you!

But now, as I look deeper into your eyes
and read into your decisions
I’m not so sure who you are anymore.

When souls are sold for stocks,
and pride and prudence for progress,
“The conquered are fighting back”–they say
as they tread on the lives of the rest

You instilled in me a work ethic,
a care for camaraderie
an identity rooted in humility, respect and honesty.

and I–took it all in.
Saluting the crimson and yellow on the cracked asphalt field.
7 years old, 7 in the morning.
and my red fluttering from my chest
matching yours,
vowing my love and loyalty.

At 18 i set my dream in saving you.
your rivers, your skies, your mountains.
(So that the calligraphy paintings
and the Tang and Song dynasty poems
can still be physically felt with the words of reciters.  )
(So that there might be just one thing
you can publicly praise
that you have not destroyed.)

Even though my eyes are set on the renewing green,
the gears inside me are painted red.
and I sit here,
as the regretting orphan who discovered the truth.

Hey you.
I really miss you. But you scare me now.
I miss your ideals–remember the time
where society was able to hope in the collective spirit as god?
Your faith was so strong.

Where did that part of you go?
Did it die?

…did it exist in the first place?


was it just a honeymoon banner chant–
to feed the fools, the young,
the naive?



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