We’ve grown too accustomed to the caring breeze
That caters only, to its giving seeds
When dissent rears
And anguish emerges
The winds scoot them along
In swift, and silent purges

As turmoil aligns
At the helm of tomorrow
In a wave of torches along the horizon
The quiet ascend,
Boastful and aware
Bellowing of the horror,
That the winds have brushed away

Yet we become feral voices in the dark
Barking, at the tame murmurs of brethren
They roam, carelessly sent astray
Battling, the ominous cackle of cynics

Blood is drawn
And no one remains
They instead scatter in panicked disarray
Madly stumbling over one another
Stalemate after stalemate
Prisoner to an ever sprawling divide

Unify in outrage
And pour,
Into the earths many winding roads
Thrash, until the reigning wisps quiet
And gather from the wreckage,
In the stillness of promise