Sunrise & Sunsets


From '62, first born, the clone of a troubled man that stares back at me every day. But I am still my own person, right? Declining in years to 59, though 60 would be better. I see the passage of time much differently now, as the waves of change look me in the eye. The world is racing, but to what end? So I slow the hands of time by looking outside. Tracing my consciousness through sunrise and sunsets.

I like to think I’ve evolved, though my actions may make me a liar. But looking out at the chaos and the greed, the modern enslavement of a whole generation. I cast my lot with the dreamers, sympathetic to the cause. Housed in this white man’s body, I’m not an elitist. I was instilled with the awareness of common folk. For I see bullshit as bullshit, not blinded by convenience.

So I ask myself, what makes us so mad? Is it paranoia? Or believing we’re the victim? Even when our belly’s are full and our 401K’s fat. So I turn to nature, but even this our hands have damaged. Leaving our Mother crying with rain and fire. But who am I, but the last born of a generation. That thought we were owed everything. Abandoning the principles we were taught, to only want more. Selling our souls to the highest bidder. Losing our empathy for a buck. Till we eventually lose it all.

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