Posted by
Arturick on Friday, March 13, 2009 3:27:57 AM
The Utopian
a poem
It is soldiers,
And generals,
Who stand upon the bloody fields of dawn,
Basking in the red light of a new era.
Behind them,
The Utopian,
Screams at the reddish yellow sun,
That burns his skin,
Parches his throat,
And stings his eyes.
For all that this bright sun brings light,
Brings nourishment,
Brings comfort,
It blots out the perfection that the Utopian found,
In the darkness.
The star.
The Utopian remembers that star,
Visible only in the darkest night.
It's light was piercing, white...
Pure.
It is noon of the new era and life blooms,
Children have born and grown,
Never knowing the darkness.
The Utopian goes to the children.
Tells them of the perfect star.
Tells them of the darkness needed to see.
They rise in fervor,
Marching to the night,
As the red of dusk bleeds across the sky,
Until all is dark.
They stand beneath the star.
They revel in the beauty of the star.
They pat their backs for what they've done.
But the star brings no warmth,
No life,
Not a thing for empty bellies.
Not even enough light to see the man next to you.
But enough to fear what you cannot see.
Fear, hunger, chaos, death,
Fill the darkness with war.
From war comes soldiers,
And generals,
Who march to the edge of night,
Ignite the darkness,
And stand upon the bloody fields of dawn.
The dawn of a new era.
And behind them,
The Utopian screams.