If you tolerate this
Your children will be next
Wrapped in cloth and leather,
Lying in stagnation.
The best cloth and leather on the planet.
Sent directly to his parcel.
From every corner of his world everything he needed gravitated towards him.
In a basket he was offered to the river.
Putting faith in the security that whispered through the reeds.
Sheltered from the horrors that ravaged the land.
Entrance on one condition:
In exchange for paper he relinquish his questioning nature.
An impulse that guided his early days.
This system was everything and outside of it there was nothing.
Ease yourself into its flow.
Have faith in it.
As quickly as paper came in it went.
But it didn’t stop coming or going.
His pockets owned the paper no more than a river bed owns water.
The people lying on the banks of the system didn’t matter.
They only served as a reminder for the destitution that awaited if you gave in to curiosity.
Or if you couldn’t keep up with the system’s exhausting pace.
Available to him were many ways to repress curiosity.
Times when the mind might wander were swallowed up.
Be ashamed of boredom and be afraid of a wandering mind.
Though it resembled nature it was manufactured.
A canal posing as a river,
it was seen as timeless and immovable.
The only worry was the paper coming in.
How things came to be put before him didn’t matter.
The answer to every natural pang was a price.
Questions circling the causes and consequences of the experience of his existence
Along with guilt were exported.
He is the child of parents who have exported consequence.
There was no room left for guilt to be exported however.
It built up and ran into his existence.
His existence that was supposed to gently roll away from consequence.
The system failed to support itself.
With its pervading guiding principle:
Out of sight out of mind.
It ignored when there would be no room left out of sight
and when consequence would force itself into mind.
His paper was a veneer of harmony.
The horrors that cut through the land were a lie.
A lie that compelled mothers to surrender their children to the river.
So that their time could be extracted.
Poisoning rivers for canals
For lives of luxury of very lives.
A sacrifice that is no ones to make.
The system betrayed itself.
Passed down through a few generations with the security of a ticking bomb.
A war declared on generation as well as class.
Lying in stagnation the paper seems useless.
Struggling for gulps of air.
The gaseous nature of which saved it from dominion.