AR (3-2-1945 / California)

Lost Men

What could be worse?
In this universe
Than for men in flight
Fleeing from their plight
In pursuit
Of dreams
Leaving their roots
For schemes
Leaving their crops in the fields
For better deals?
Leaving nature’s womb
For a concrete tomb
Breaking from the land
In search of a line in which to stand
Surrendering his spacious skies
For a breath of delicious lies
Red clay no longer clings to his feet
Gone is the glitter of golden wheat
Lost is the vision of mother earth
Where more than gold the soil is worth
We know dreams will shatter
Reality in the end is what will matter
But no reins, no fences can hold him
Victories are few, we could have told him
So we let him roam
Far away from home
Sow his oats you might say
Praying he’ll come back some day
Hoping the sparkle in his eyes
Will fade in the next sunrise
What could be worse?
Than to have to live this curse
To return a broken man
And grasp dirt in his hand
On bended knees we pray
That toiling the earth is the way

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