Everchanging isn’t it?

Yet so constant, in how through the ages we remain.

Our predisposed fears, our predestined successes.

In simplicity, our laughter.

The healing amusement in battle with the dark knocking on our doors.

    I know you cry, we all do.

    Add it to our list of tendencies.

    Add it to the list of lives the common man leads.

            Criers in secret.

            Lovers in vain.

Sweet candor in tears; deceit sealed in our most passionate kiss.

 

We are most honest with ourselves, but fail to grace others with this same respect.

Teach the young ones, they say.

For one day they will become old.

Their wrinkles will tell our story,

 

And how we want to be remembered.

 

Teach them.

What exactly?

Our ways? Our words? Our wisdom?

We are wise to ourselves.

And for that we are often called fools.

Dumb, down on our luck, bums, who wade in the water of the world.

Worldly things.

 

But I, do not think you, are a fool.

I think genius is shown through our evolution.

The ever changing consistency of humankind.

The products of our mind.

And in peaks of curiosity, we have valiantly uncovered the depths that define us.

Distinct, yet, all the same.

 

We dream.

We love the dreamers.

They call us out of our heads, out of the cynic.

They whisper, Shhh

    Look up, into my eyes, and see what I see.

    For it may be gone tomorrow.

When remembering the world we had.

When gazing upon the infinite canvas of the future.

So white and pure.

 

We hold the brushes the ones before us have painted with.

 

Knowledge coated in thick yellow,

Heartache swirled in pink.

 

Blues and reds smearing our beliefs,

Purple blurring our existence.

 

Hues, that tell our story and paint the picture of our world.

Pending, turning.