No tears when we are born from this earth,
and yet - the baby cries out for constant love.
But the golden veil responds back from a ferocious death,
and in turn repels the energy of this universe.
In some honest desperation
our wisdom is tested by what we believe
not to be, and in our last desperate act
we always cling to the belief of the impossible.
Between the innocent child whom has no super hero,
it is the stark reality of the belief
of love reverent before his spirit may grow not to die.
The love that keeps us grounded
in this life, is living between
what is here and there.
Where are the supermen who will save my child
from this disparity?
Where are the supermen
who have no idea
how to save my brothers child?
Where are the supermen whom look so wonderful -
but yet know the consequence of this fragile life of this shuddering time?
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