Prose and musing by Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
This is not what was promised by the inner corners of my mind after two years of constraint. Not this. Why this? Why now? Just why?
East calls West’s bluff and they are left standing impotent in their patriarchal commune of broken arrows.
Edges get tread upon, pounded down by the puppets of propaganda signaling their virtue. Whilst blood spills for one man’s crusade.
Will history leave us standing shadows afraid of the light? Afraid to admit to what we have become.
We watch on through noise boxes, helpless in the face of shame, but never putting our finger on it. And we sink.
So far we sink, and we didn’t even notice the wheels had stopped. And we go willingly just to feel something.
Seeking answers in the god of science, our spirituality slips its halo down over our eyes. And whatever else escapes us from here.
And Moscow cries tonight, ashamed to its soul of what it has become. There is no pride in this.
And Blighty cries, ashamed by inaction and lack compassion found in our politician’s hearts turning their backs on people in crisis.
There is no pride here; not for citizens of Europe, not for those that left it behind, and not for those who invade at their dictator’s command.
Only the citizens of Ukraine can hold their heads high right now, although they do so with care, only these people have the right right now to hold their heads high as they stand united.
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Photo by Katie Godowski from Pexels
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