To he or she whomever chooses that which can’t be grasped by finger or hand

December 20, 2017 cynicalcoder Poetry 35

To he or she whomever chooses that which can’t be grasped by finger or hand,
Let it be felt that which is essence, the prodigal inkling of intellect and heart that guides and soothes catharsis,
Fore’re this fastness in stead, this hearkening of the pull of Nature,
May it be felt and heard and smelt,
Like the dove flying high o’er grand Olympus or the unfortunate Icarian endeavor,
Power forth into the world, detractors smitten and raise the Glories you choose to raise and preach the whisperings of Peace and light,
And let not your voice echo across the halls of the world in a whimper but with a surety so Divine the cretins of the Earth,
While cowering in their holes hence will shield their eyes from the glorious Truth that you inflict upon them,
This Intolerance of anger, of hate, of poverty,
Lifting this Property of your fellow woman and man to boisterous fulfillment,
Hands held fast in the communion of Humanity,
Worship not false deities in the Mascarade of Celebrity,
Or gaze into the rectangular Prison of the spoken spells of devils,
Like a purgatory burning away the will of duty and understanding,
Driving not the machinations of the mind but surely as the sun arcs the sky,
Divides us with its hellish scythe divesting to us seeds of pomegranate impregnated with Injustice,
Instead of consume, exude,
No longer let the doubts built by detraction; instill mettle,
Let fly the shafts of inner existence through facadicious axes,
And Boldy stand amongst your community of peers,
And contract with them obligations of belonging, duty and care,
To force away in a gale the choking miasmic cloud of Babel,
Which strikes our throats like blades of indifference,
To all those things we would not see inflicted on ourselves,
Or those we love.
For our children.

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