I am blamed for faults I had no idea existed
Cursed even before birth by the institution of Christ
Made to feel guilty and shackled
Until I took the crowbar of ideas and broke through the concrete
Concrete hardened by a thousand years repression
Only to realize that I live under the paradox of the red, white, and blue
Words and letters of freedom, I get a taste
Only to feel the baton trying to put me back in my place
I now hold a paper and a confidence that makes them think twice
But it is still spotted with the blood of the efforts of those who came before
Too much to ignore, yet the yearning for inner calm seeks to retreat
The cosmic dance makes it feel like chance, so many questions left to ask
A persistent pessimism tries to see the light
I let it rise to take over like blight
Yet I tend to the fence, mend it with a fresh coat
Hoping that the truth will remain hidden and prevent bloat
Weeds benefit from the same soil, no matter how much you toil
Inner peace only through the realization there is no final state, only a persistent change
New thoughts, new realities, all fresh experiences I am relieved to see
The thought that ashes from the past will serve as lessons - even concrete crumbles down
Nothing to dictate or demand a prosperous future
Only collective work and persistent refusal against the status quo
Excerpt from “West of Western.” You can find the full paperback and kindle version at Amazon