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Generations falling and melting…

Generations rising and shaping…

What we were we are not

and what we are we know not.

Time is so short and I want my eyes

to cry the tears that my heart has already cried,

but none can muster forth.

The well within is nearly bone dry,

though I cannot make sense,

or understand why.

The hand that had guided in years long past

still guides even today

for those who acknowledge.

So many footprints of those who just don’t understand

the road of confusion and despair.

The higher road is smaller and harder to walk,

but so much sweeter in the end of the story.

His-story.