Dear Future Son,

I shall always be a cracked mirror

An imperfect rolemodel

Yet I hope that from my mangled complexion

You may take unconditional love

Tired rocks push

Against the tireless ocean

When will they crumble?

Flashing vignettes of post-war, post-regime countryside

From a grey city of hidden color that bleeds history

To timeless tranquility beneath Oaks, two world wars strong,

Within a valley strewn with flowers

Whose scent chases me back into the city

Mother Nature sheds one ghastly skin

One of disease and pain and spiritual vandalism

One of love and beauty and poetry

Humanity left as no more than a healing scar on earths grimace

It courses through my worn-out sneakers

Animating my body

To trudge mindfully forward

Into green empires

Crowned by whites and reds and oranges and yellows

A determined soul guides a lost mind

Yawp

To sing from the soul

To test the acoustics of the cosmos

To write with your blood and tears

To be uncontrollable in your passion

We, America, rebuild

and confront power.

For too long the people have borne the cost.

[Taken from the Inaugural Address of the 45th President of the United States]

Restless but free

The road now lies almost evenly

Behind and ahead

My tired limbs know not to cease

By the dock stood he

Watching the trajectory of a solitary moonbeam

Cutting through the fog

Like the sound of a chopped fir cutting through

The silence of the forest

Yet the fir has kissed the ground and hushed the forest once more

And the moonbeam now dances on the waves of the Pacific.

Der Untertan

Der Jüngling hold

durch die Peitsche erniedrigt

bows his head

as his obedience destroys him