We have watched security crumble,
we have seen homes stolen.
We were told we can buy the land,
but we know we can’t actually own it.

I’m screaming Back to the Earth, but no one’s listening.*
We build monuments to nostalgia on top of faults
and rely on our concrete cynicism to re-pour the foundation.
When I have enough money, I will be happy.

Racing toward a separation in the trail,
I will discover that unknown trail the best,
I will bike further,
I will catch the biggest damn fish you’ve ever seen.

Connected but competing,
Plugged in but zoned out,
We create beautiful digital fences with bottom line costs,
ignoring our neighbors rickety trailer.

You aren’t that fancy.
Digitized fear is still fear, it just costs more.

Tell your friends you are afraid of dying.
Tell your friends you are afraid of loving.
Tell your friends you don’t know where you are going.
Tell them you wish there was meaning somewhere.

Watch what fears hide in platitudes, reassurances, budgets, and school
Some, rebellious in spirit, will sit with you and pitch their tent,
knowing that time and love is all we need
to walk toward a new world, one we are capable of embracing.
(*Rusted Root Lyric)

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