The Lost Boys

Lost boys

an evolution

a focusing

on people

on individuals

     flying

in fog,
– distortion –
It ain't in voice,
it's only in your mind,
clustered and conscious,
where it isn't just a mear fucking numbers game.

Fallacies:
you are not free,
you are pseudo symmetries,
fragments and forgeries,
aftermaths,

only adjoining the paths,
to changes that’d charge you,
that would propel you,
that would propel the world
to a state of True vitality
that could reach biological escape velocity,
to the beginning of death being a dimestore curiosity.

Respond, react in all your instances,
to choose your life,
your choices,
to the creation of the container and contents,

shape the bowl,
throw yourself at the project,
dig your hands in the muddy grooves
as they sink into the features that are your moments,
make a choice to reattach the forgotten parts of your life,
score and slip the friends and lovers lost
into a new cast,
into the kiln,

break every flawed fabrication,
know that the resources are infinite,
although the components have cost,

they are still limitless:

in practice - dwindling,
in principle - ever dawning,
ever flowing into another entity
somewhere within the multiverse.

Take the responsibility to respond,
take every joule,
every bit of your lifeforce,
and act in accordance with the principle that they matter,

they are life.

Where every evasion deprives recreation.

Think of a world without scarcity,
that is our world.
Think of the lightyears of untapped energy,
the cities among the stars yet built,
the beings of godly health,
of universal reach,
of a renaissance anew.

We are the terrestrial lost boys
and will always be.
At the brink,
at the edge of understanding,
persistent on truly becoming
a Focused People.