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Listen my children and you shall hear |
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The sound of your own steps |
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The sound of your hereafter |
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Memory awaits and turns to greet you |
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Draping its banner across your wrists |
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Wake up arms |
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Delicate feet |
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For as one to march the streets |
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Each alone, each part of another |
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Your steps shall ring |
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Shall raise the cloud |
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And they that will hear will hear |
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Will hear voice of the one |
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And the one and the one |
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As it has never been uttered before |
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For something greater yet to come |
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Then the hour of the prophets |
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And their great cities |
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For the people of Ninevah |
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Fell to their knees |
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Heeding the cry of Jonah |
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United |
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Covering themselves in sackcloth and ashes |
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And called to their god |
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And all their hearts were as one heart. |
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And all their voices were as one voice. |
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God heard them and his mind was moved. |
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Yet something greater will come to pass. |
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And who will call? |
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And what will they call? |
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Will they call to God? |
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The air? |
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The fowl? |
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It will not matter, if the call is true. |
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They shall call and this is known. |
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One voice and each another |
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Shall enter the dead, the living flower, |
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Enter forms that we know not. |
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To be felt by sea, |
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By air, |
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By earth |
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And shall be an elemental pledge. |
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This is our birthright. |
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This is our charge. |
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And we have given over to others. |
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And they have |
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not |
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done |
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well |
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And the forests mourn. |
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The leaves fall. |
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Swaddling babes watch and wonder |
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As the fathers of our spirit nations |
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Dance in the street in celebration |
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As the mountains turn pale from |
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Their nuclear hand |
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And they have |
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not |
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done |
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well |
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Now my children |
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You must overturn the tables |
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Deliver the future from material rule |
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For only one rule should be considered |
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The eleventh commandment |
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To love one another |
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And this is our covenant across your wrist |
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This offering is yours |
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To adorn, adore |
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To bury |
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To burn |
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Upon a mound |
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To hail |
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To set away |
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It is merely a cloth, |
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Merely our colors, |
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Invested with the blood of the people |
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All their hopes and dreams. |
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Our flag |
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It has its excellence |
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Yet it is nothing |
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It shall not be a tyranny above us |
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Nor should god |
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Nor love |
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Nor nature |
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Yet we hold as our pleasure this tender honor |
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That we acknowledge the individual |
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And the common ground formed |
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And if our cloth be raised and lowered |
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Half mast |
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What does it tell us? |
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That an individual has passed |
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Is saluted |
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And mourned by his countrymen. |
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This ritual extends to us all. |
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For we are all the individual. |
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No unknown. |
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No insignificant one |
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Nor insignificant labor |
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Nor insignificant act of charity |
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Each has a story to be told and retold |
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Which shall be a glowing thread |
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In the fabric of Man |
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And the children shall march |
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And bring the colors forward |
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Investing within them |
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The redeeming blood |
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Of their revolutionary hearts. |
