Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters - Indigo Girls
"So it goes."
That's Kurt Vonnegut, Jr..
“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.”
That's Jack. Jack Kerouac.
Name of poetry. Eyes of wisdom staring down from some distant star. His sallow cheeks. His eyes bearing the pain of the world. He knew her. He knew what her final words would be to his trash can dream denied. He knew that even his demand of nothing, would be denied. The rich man can ride, and the hobo, he goes down. N'est pas?
So it goes.
But...
He still sees the world for what it is, and loves it anyway. Perhaps the next ones will rise. Not all, he laughed, but the few. Those that the world almost destroys. They are the ones that end up saving it you know. The true revolutionaries who listen for the songs of the city. They hear the voice of the downtrodden, and at least they try... try... to do something. Anything. They try. The pain they have absorbed, perhaps unberable, they use to pour out healing. Maybe this action is little more than them seeking thier own healing. Maybe so. Maybe not. Because they do it regardless.
But they cant see...
...and...
...that is why...
They know not if its dark outside or light.
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