I’m whispering to the wind,
Soaring with eagles.
Playing sky hawk with ravens, and
Fooling aloft with crows.
Down on the ground, I sift through the rubble and detritus of a city
Green leaves, shield me from cold grey buildings and glass lookouts. Sentient beings trapped in cubicles, daydreaming of freedom, fear trapped routines keep them caged and docile.
The wind is changing. Hear me, Muse. Hear what I say.
Will mankind live for another day?
Will madness reign, and carnage be decreed from the pulpits?
Will our savanna instincts rule us and lead us not into temptation but disaster?
Strange warm breezes blow out of season, kindling for another age.
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