I Will

                         I Will

We've allowed ourselves to become,—sick
while waiting for a utopian dream
to crash-land at our feet
so we can snatch it up and claim it
as our own.

We've become evil,—dishonest and broken—
let down one too many times,
knocked down to the point
that we stopped getting back up
a long time ago.

Help stopped helping,—or so we've come to believe—
as soon as we stopped caring—
when we stopped wanting to change
the monotony of Safety,
the monopoly of the current Paradigm,
and the comforts of Distracted Reality.

The bars are full of Dreamers—
hopeless and overflowing
with artificial faith, of all kinds—
faithful to the fault!—that someone,
some thing, somewhere, will repair the problem
—somehow.

Believers in Magic!—Delusional Frauds!—
Fakers!—lazy and ruined—
spoiled beyond belief and crying
like little lost babies, afraid,
of their own, loving Mother.

—She's been calling us all this time—
And Look!—we have forgotten our own names,
the sound of her voice,
and the colour of her eyes—
we are Dead, in hers, and ours:

What will break this horrific spell?
who will stop marching in this Parade of Death?
who will turn around
so we all, can finally see
our own Reflection, in the Eyes of Another?

                  J.L.Boisclair
                December, 2018
               St. Augustine, FL