Poetry by self-publishing dystopian and cyberpunk author, writer, and marketer Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
Poetry by self-publishing dystopian and cyberpunk author, writer, and marketer Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
How better to be?
In times of sorrow and despair
Where the weak are belittled instead of held up and honoured
What do we look for in our leaders, these men, and women whose sacred power is to protect
Where do we turn when they fail us
Why do we listen to their narratives when they are only out for re-election
Of self-preservation and greed
We get misdirected and distracted by the other
By the life, they seem to live that is better than ours
We get left behind by our own self-doubt fuelled by digital hysteria
And what say you about the sacred path our forefathers and mothers once trod
Where is the ancient wisdom now
Is it lost within empty words
Is it left in a forgotten land deep beneath the waters
Is it in your hand but you do not yet see it
Is it with you, standing side by side, and yet you do not perceive it
Open yourself and let the words in
Trust thyself and be freed from the bondage of new media
Let go of what you think you know and open up to what is hidden
Rediscover the lost knowledge of old
Open up to the freedoms they bring, the blessing and the healing of your soul
These times of plague and sadness, of hatred and fear, of the erosion of our natural resources to fill the greed of consumption, these times feel dark and grim
But there is another way if you let that way in
There is another way if only you, and I, are open to it
Each treads their own path, but we need not walk alone
Each finds and fights their own way through a life of numbed senses to their ultimate demise
How better to allow that path to guide you in times of despair
How better to let yourself be open and vulnerable to all
How better to live now and not wait for tomorrow
How better to live, I do not know, but words bring me comfort as I allow them to spill forth on to an empty page, onto an empty screen, onto an open soul
How better to be? For that is the question
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