By Keira Kimberly Smith
The promise of tomorrow hangs deathly silent in the air,
A promise that may be fullled or shattered with utter despair.
What do we live for? What dreams do we seek?
The future dangles on ice, paper thin and bleak.
As Icarus stretched in forlorn for that great reprieve of the sun,
We yearn to free ourselves of earthly shackles and run.
Wisps of weed tickle our faces, our ngers rooted in earth as we pause life’s races. Surviving does not equate to being alive,
A world of passion and vivacity we must revive.
We hope to nd a love like Orpheus, spell binding and lled with devotion, A love that encompasses the vastness of the universe and the depths of the ocean. We hope to secure our dreams in a world where capitalism reigns, Yet we resort to its burial under the pressure of society’s harsh canes. We hope to have chambers of nancial stability,
While we drown in the tumultuous currents of industrial responsibility. We hope to establish our names upon a pedestal,
In the hopes of being adored due to the fear of being invisible.
When the dust of a hundred years weathers our tombs and its engravements, We shall be reduced to rotting bones, a passing glance along pavements. Tomorrow is not promised, hear me when I say,
Seize every passing second of today, I cry and I pray.
The world lays bare before you, to conquer and to explore,
To experience its serenity in adventures galore.
Drop the weight that demolishes your soul,
Ignite your ame and damned be the consequences of it all.
When we cannot live without the shackles of expectations, is life worth living at all? Or must we forever dim our light to conform to this world until the nal curtain call? When did we lose our spirit that yearned to be free?
Was it along the way, when we fought and killed for the clutches of power and money? Employment, grandeur and legacies will render insignicant,
For life is not worth living in the end, if you lose yourself and barter your spirit.
By Keira Kimberly Smith
Bình luận