Work Sets You Free

Come little children,
sit down by me,
i'll tell you a tale,
of how you'll be.

All of you have thought,
wrapped in the past.
All of you from lands,
with borders and seas.

Hair and eye colour,
the words that you speak,
come from your history,
and enrapture your heart.

The stories you're told,
cement who you are.
Founding beliefs,
no matter what colour you hold.

The day will come,
when you may disagree,
and to win not to lose,
becomes the song thst you hum.

Some will wear the uniform,
of those that control.
Some will not change
and some will conform.

Why have concerns of the past?
open your minds,
live all together,
snap the chains,
unfurl your masts.

History is a charity shop,
piled with glasses and shoes,
all that's missing are bales of hair,
battered suitcases,
and limbs tattooed.

The cattle trains of yore,
will roll forward with ease,
unless you have the strength,
to stop them.
unlike before.

by Paul Warner

Comments (1)

Wisdom of nature observed by a wise artist has to be good. Real perseverence. I lack it. So clear from your poem. Thanks.