weight of the world

i am the incument,
he that shall grow roots
and twist green shoots into and through
the wretched plates.

the world will not wait,
and no longer will be told
of the burning ocean.

the burning surface
dictates the pace
at which we move.

one to another
one foot in front of the other
it would be a joyful dance in a different light.

kids, stuck to the ground,
forever hemmed,
tacked in place

by the death of history.

no one thing carries the weight of the world,
there is always hope amidst the
endless marching,
our trails, and trevails,
the sounds we make
etching our lines.

etching the lines
that will never, ever, been seen again.

weight of the world

uncleblack

Joined February 2010

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