the sky has gone grey, like the belly a three day-old fish on the bank of the hudson. a reminder of the what-was-once-there lays in the distance, a tease, a stain-covered tablecloth. we are changing our names, by choice or by force. our mothers and fathers have lost us to new titles as we shed the skin they gave us. the lady do-as-you-would-be-done-by has retired to greener pastures that don’t exist, and her petty wares of justice and hope now taste sour on our lips. but we REMEMBER the sweeter days, because they have told us to never forget, to etch those visions into our brains with the sharpest tools money can’t buy. they used to sing of those days, because they lived them. they used the best notes and the beautifulest of time signatures. verse-chorus-verse-chorus ad infinitum ad infinitum. but their melodies became choked by the smog of a new voice that wrenched the chords from their throats, and the world fell under a silence of static and and industry. iron and steel overcame flesh, and they forgot the song. they forgot. they forgot. but their melodies returned to us, broken as they were, and we LEARNED them, humming the notes in tiny basement apartments buried under concrete and pain. our flesh came back to us. we began to look around and see what we didn’t before. behemoth and leviathan are twitching their tails, and we know this now. we see the froth gathering in our footprints, and the ripples in the air blow sand in our hair and beards. anvils are gathering at the peak of mount ararat, and for, and for once, we turn our heads towards the signs with penitence. we stand in the foothills of that holy mountain and fix our eyes to the north. a new dawn, a return to what-was-once-there that seems too far removed from those who have stood in the fields for years and years and years. what does this mean, brothers and sisters? where are we going? not how, but why? we are changing our names, by choice or by force.
its all so much simpler than we’ve been led to believe.