04-09-2020, 12:16 AM
Clickity-clack
All that remains is a snow globe, and we
the ones who shook it.
We were never created
equal. Yet, we share this diorama
carved out for us. Each
set in a preordained place.
I know you can’t see
beyond this iron wall,
but this is no prison. We are free
as the flurry dancing outside
the frosted panes of the sacred engine.
The sentence you imagine is marked by miles
not days. Never forget, we tried
to save the world.
All that remains is a snow globe, and we
the ones who shook it.
We were never created
equal. Yet, we share this diorama
carved out for us. Each
set in a preordained place.
I know you can’t see
beyond this iron wall,
but this is no prison. We are free
as the flurry dancing outside
the frosted panes of the sacred engine.
The sentence you imagine is marked by miles
not days. Never forget, we tried
to save the world.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson