Cultivated constraints render revolt in the adolescents mind
by David Lacey
Wasted in play the day dissolves into a solution sweet yet hard to find.
Whispering winds toy upon the Joy of greeting those they meet.
Within the dale long forgotten souls beat the ground with defenceless feet.
Glaring through the window pane Apollo’s light seeks no refrain
There lay a child, born wild into the seduction of his mother’s breast
Lay to rest the child who will grow naught but weary within this dread reality of ours.
Awake yet constantly dreaming we’re coming close to knowledge of reality.
Amongst the glories of wisdoms ancient our souls are pastured
Grace follows cosmic rhythms in pace as above a flock of blackbirds
Swift in formation, beneath a sparkling sky, dance a dance in meditation.
Consider the muse born of harmony aloft the winds of the songs that dreamers sing.
Woodland nymphs frolic throughout the country side
As urban jungles bellow Serpents of smoke into a cradle sky,
They’re suffocating us – we the infants of the fruit tree.