To the Lost

I

To one who dreams of happiness and truth,
I see you
You, whose innocent view on the simplicity of life had suddenly been clouded grey on discovering pessimism in old age and intellect,
I see you
Extraordinary scholar who tolls day after insufferable day toward a dying beacon on a running horizon,
A beacon which you wish you were running from and not to, no, never to, yet you're dragged to it by steely comments and wishes of fathers,
The child inside slowly forgotten in cramped lecture halls and dull textbooks,
Studying whoever-the-f**k-cares-what with a burning fire in the back of the brain,
The fire well hidden in the corner beside wandering dreams and lost lovers,
I see you
Old-aged superstar living in the ever-looming shadow of the past,
Fallen mighty star from heaven banished to the land of the living dead and cursed,
Laying out maps and impossible victories in the skull, whilst holding onto the fix that is the one and only good thing that's real in the relentlessly treacherous world around,
I see your nightmares before you wake up in screams and cold sweats,
Nightmares of future opportunities, and past ones missed,
Exalted shouts of accomplishment and praise now dimmed to whispers of self doubt,
I see you
Talented poet, dancer, singer, painter, studying numbers, graphs and other "necessities to sustain human life",
But who would rather study the art of passion, sex, love...
For we can never truly understand life until we practice what we love and our souls collide with the heavens in a frenzied dance outside the rules and laws of time!
I see you
Beautiful soul, corrupted by the vile inception of the importance of money, money, money...
MONEY!
The last living scholar of the giant smoking crown of capitalism, bellowing chants and orders and whipping young soldiers into the never-ending workforce!
I see you
As you marvel before a painted sunset in awe of its golden majesty before sighing beneath the disappointing atmosphere of starless sky, blinded by polluted cities,
As graveyards flood the earth and artificial light blankets the heavens,
I see you
Wrinkled from gravity and age, humping your despised, detested job of 40 years while trying to make desperate love to your recurring dream,
Unforgiving of the child who has long since run away, lost, dead.

II

But I tell you this,
One is never old,
If one is alive, he is never dead,
If a moment exists, it is never deleted,
A memory remembered is never truly forgotten,
And a fire burning is not extinguished,
So I say run,
Run with your burning torch of dreams and life,
Of passion and existence and the penultimate moment of the now,
Illuminate the belly of what keeps you up at night in your single-bed,
What occupies every moment of your unfulfilled soul,
Run into the dark void of the mystery unknown,
With your head held high radiating light
And eyes wide in search of destiny and life and truth,
With lungs filled with raging shouts of triumph as every step steers you away, away from the dying beacon and nearer to the dream,
To freedom and purity and childlike bliss,
To everlasting life of dancing, writing, singing and all!
Never lost in the machine but found in rebirth,
Searching the womb for the light at the end of the tunnel,
And it is there!
And it is good!
And you are good!
And life is good when you are living!

I see you
Newborn Phoenix rising out of the ashes of society,
Fire wings burning against the first light of day,
Swooping over lost souls of mass production,
Flying high above the smoke and into the transcendence of atmosphere where the air is pure and true!
And never, ever looking back