The sky is soft pink water on transparent satin.

To me.

And I wonder,

What do the children make of creation? The youth of our generation?

I'm sure they have answers if I ask the right questions...

Somehow, I feel so sure.

What breed of wisdom do the innocent possess?

Present time and effortless adoration?

But even these gifts of perception are tainted by the cyber webs they are so hysterically tangled in.

They burn away their minds and eyes, as neon distractions consume their precious time.

(I laugh at the irony as I type away my angst against that which enables me to do so).

Young minds are the most vulnerable to expansion. They absorb ideas and respond with such a green imagination so purely and completely with much more ease than those already conditioned and wired with age.

It is the duty of the elders to free and expand these potential flames of fragile and bright insights.

Not to impose boundaries and distractions.

Not to demand a regurgitation of memorized rhetoric.

Not to underestimate a potential to surpass our own present intelligence (because that is the point: to make our present youth wiser than us so that their future lives can be led more justly).

We live in a world weaved on the seeming level of conventional man-made reality. Different times, different kinds of veils and distractions.

Today, its a nine to five cube of glowing screens demanding green for the pigs pointing fingers and looking to get fatter at our expense.

(And like obedient sheep we agree to be complacent).

Most of us.

Most of us.

A child reared wiser would know better

than to settle for a disease of dumbing down conditioning infected by those who really should know better (and actually BE better).

There are the wise (they are the exception), and then there are the majority.

The majority consist of fat mechanical insects tangled in wires, quotas and debt.

The parents are numb, tired machines.

The leaders are greedy, power-drunken thieves.

The men with the most green feed all that we most readily see on shiny screens, weaving such an easy sweet reality.

As a result,

The youth is made dumb and distracted.

But they are the hope, and they are hungry once they have tasted the seeds inside their minds.

And the wise are growing.

The wise must teach the youth,

So that the student will surpass the teacher with age

and continue the cycle into a infinite succession of ever evolving wisdom reciprocating between old and young timelessly.

I come back to the sky that has grown dark,

and I question myself until I want to burn every word I have used to justify all that I am and believe in.

This cynicism of self drives the creative spirit to suicide...

I have nothing but this.

I am nothing unless I seek to move forward with this.

A stagnant soul starves,

So feed.