Death of Our Age

Running into me
And passing overhead
Like a stolen guitar
But you never stop
And I keep running towards you
Only now you are behind me.
It is the union that makes the soul
I choke on the words
But these words get past beyond my throat
And past my lips
Ringing clearly to the mind.
How can I be me, and you be human?
I face the microphone, feeling the drama
Sweating blood, I step on the stage
I fumble in your pockets for change
And give the man an earth's worth of shouting
Plotting out the death of our age
I hand him the change, and turn my back.
Am I ruining the once majestic waters.
They are yelling at me,
You can't bring something like that to the table
Just to drop it on the floor
They insult me,
My intelligence.
It is a setup for a slaughter,
And you can not kill my spirit
Or my faith.
Stand afar and watch the work done within me.

Poem by J.A.D. © 2002