Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Vision

The boy wonders what it takes to be visionary
to have wings and be able to fly
so you can leave this world and its people
to live in a heaven of sorts
where you can create and love reciprocates.

But he doe not know that he is capable.
The bronze buttons on his blazers are symbols
of both luxury and oppression.
Impoverished of realities he is caged in softness
and blinding supervision, which he mistook for providence.

A dear young boy,
his fanciful chatter is but white noise
born from an oblique mind, oblivious, impervious.
He watches the old man pandering his charm
and fixates on the gold watch, cold to the touch.

His curiosity seeks ultimate beauty,
it blossoms in his chest and makes his breath sweet.
Nonetheless the flagrancy inflicted upon him
is a heritage that shall not crumble easily.
If his flower is not to wither, he must grow, a maverick.

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