New Souls

We, the generation of new souls,
expect our happiness
and will not accept
less than what we’ve dreamed.
We, the inventors
stand poised at the helm of
time, ready to cast off
toward some unknown horizon.
But our world is smaller now,
a grid of power
round and full with the
magnitude of being,
consuming history with neon headlines,
we do not pace like our fathers, we
race like children,
demand like birds,
we yawp and will not stand
and
and—

These piteous throes
mere gestures for
we too are born
to die.
©K Paige Medina 10/4/2016

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