Hearts break, on a glass shard shore.
The beaches on which, I’ve seen you stand before.
Feet cut, we all bear the scars.
But at least one day, we can claim they are ours.
No one had smooth sailing in the bay we call home,
Where the sun drowns in the tide, and leaves us alone.
Cities’ lights, sprung to life, with sizzle and flame,
Calling us to their hills, with whispers untamed.
“Leave your pasts, leave your histories, take only your names.”
“Bring your wounds, and your mysteries, we’ll accept them the same.”
“Ask for everything or nothing, we can promise you both.”
“Abandon the fields, come harvest your hopes.”
Could we truly move on? To mental towers and trains?
Kiss goodbye our sloven stables, and aching old plains?
As each of us stood, on that woe wallowing shore,
We realized our elders, had all stood here before.
Too afraid to step forward, to young to turn back,
We starred at the splendors, blazing on in the black.
No one would speak up, no one would take the first step,
So on the shore we still stayed, and on the shore we still bled.