Too bad we are unable
To take a little knife
And zest a little lemon
To shake up our little life.
And once we’re all shook up
We should be the planners
Of a revitalizing revolt-
A final castoff of all life’s manners.
From this citrus momentum
Would spring banners dripping red
Daring and loud promotions-
A declaration to infect the head.
With their heads laid up
The contagion will spread-
A refreshing mist inspiring masses,
The resurrection of the dead.
Thus we have erected a lighthouse.
A pillar to guide us far away
Crowned with a light
Blinking unceasingly night and day.
Though together we are all
But buoys bobbing in the waves.
Floating towards a destination
Fearful of all looming cliffs and caves.
Perhaps, for us to be powerless
Is not a plague nor curse
Not a lifetime of numbing anguish,
But rather something much worse
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