There is a fable of a day, of a time so far away.
Of a place now decayed,
where gallant knights fought to create
the place we now call the United States.
No fatal force nor tyranny could call to question with brevity
the valor these men had – now an antiquity.
No cries of treason, traitor or terrorist could deter these men from their wish.
Were they a hallucination or our memories, or did these men really exist?
Now in ruins of the ideal, these men could not have fathomed this true hyperbole.
From the catacombs rises a new catatonia.
From the vessel of Adam, the light of a new Eden, dimmed into a despotic state.
With words of fey, the people are feigned.
When will the kingdom come for a future state?
For the zealot hounds hound the gails, turning this world into a nuclear gale.
And rot the world it will, till we heirs exile the exalted of today,
and rid ourselves of this helot state.
Category: LETTERS TO MY SON