Slow Rivers

Smog-choked morning greets

Slow rivers of men flowing to the city

Manufactured, managed

Packaged, repackaged

Sanded, rounded off

Fighting for a place at the trough

 

Scratch the plastered, painted surface

Any sign of life there yet?

The hardened skin of the earth

Might open and give birth

To thick, bubbling rivers of red

In an act of sacrificial blood shed

 

Likewise, one day

We might awaken

For that force moves inside us, too

Trying to find a way, trying to break through

And when that day comes, I know

We’ll set the world aglow

Reviews

[Richard🖌]

Hi, Laz,

Dropped in to read a bit of your thought-filled offering.
Everyday life's conditioning blind most in such a way there exists slight chance an amalgamate conscious will one day occur and free humankind from its workaday shackles, or to even awaken that most of life exists beyond three dimensions … still, only one who has could compose such an ideally illuminating piece as this.

Excellent title, too, that drew me in.
Brilliant work, Laz -- poignant, deeply thought; yet, hopeful … KUDOS! ⁓ Richard 🍃