Where is the flare,
In trafficking among the squalid mundane?
To recover, inside of our boxes
Confined, and prisoner to hideaway

The soul does not flourish
Strangled by the flumes of black smoke
Birthing, her own flumes of green
Subservient to the golden and reckless embers

Loves is bound
Defiled by the ghosts of oppression
The feeble advocates of archaic suppression
For how long shall they reign?

Fixed infatuation
Kidnaps our inherent desires
Violating our tranquil soil of creativity
Their vile roots, sprawling and cancerous

Long deferred dreams
Shall return massing in strength
Rank after rank
Ravaging one soul after the next
To consume, the norm we perceive
And its foul aging stench
Trailing not far behind

The perished light of dreamers
Will hum and buzz back to life
Scream from the depths of anguish ridden hearts
And carry them onward to paradise

This resurrected light
Will place whomever you desire
Wrapped, inside the confines of your affection
With your honest form, placed within theirs

Stay vigilant
Stay lively
And relish, when the looming call echoes
Rattling every inch,
Of your precious and sheltered earth