Writing enough to gain critical momentum,
Proficiency will follow production.
Rhyme? It will arrive in time.
Harmony? Each part of this is part of me.
Who can see a child before it comes to be?
We’re writing running out of the collapsing dream
The crumbling of accumulated eons of memes
Evolved with limited vision into less of a temple and more of a prison
Now the construct collapses and we can do nothing but run
Create a new camp, reclaim the dream the city transmuted in us,
The dream of shelter, and family, a place to cook food,
To let our thoughts out in rhyme, where each word is good
We are all running now, and we do not know from what
Many are tired of running, and stop and get sucked
Under the great advancing tide of shattered glass
It is the hardest race, the only, and the last
But no one still running has lost.