The boys journey: reflection on a civilization

The wandering boy returns to his home, and he finds he is left all alone. Just tables and chairs stare at him blank, and the sound of his family near.

The boys journey

The wandering boy
Returns to his home,
And finds he is left all alone.
Just tables and chairs
Stare at him blank,
And the sound of his family near.
And even the smell
Of his brothers and sisters,
But their unsight fills him with fear.
They have crumbled
Under the tumbling
Of a warring world left in tears.
They have suffered,
Rebooted and buffered,
Yet crashed in the system of here.
And while he was out
To conquer the skies,
This paradise had time to die.
While he was out
To wager the world,
The paradise had turned to lies.
While he was out
To democratize,
The paradise had dried of crying.

The wandering boy
Returns to his home,
And finds that everything’s gone.
No tables or chairs,
Or the family he left,
Or anything resembling himself.
He has no eyes to see,
And no ears to hear
The vast emptiness that he should smell.
He thought he could
Start over proper,
And store most of his shit on the shelf.
The money troubles,
The bank bubbles,
Come home with a 10-er worth twelve.
But alas, little boy,
Your boys are dead,
And your family the first to go.
While you were out
Killing and preying,
And praying for a way to grow,
While you were out
Conquering, slaying,
The soul of your paradise has flown.

The wandering boy
Returns to his home,
And he concludes on his solitude.
He accepts his fate,
Sits down on a chair,
And cuts through his stomach like hair.
The blades he uses
A crystallite fusion
Between earth, fire, water and air.
Blood streams
From his creases,
While joy fills the world of despair.
While he is out.
While you were out.