There always comes this point, this point of twilight,
After the sun sinks brilliantly, heavy and burning.
Yes- everything eventually succumbs to the night-
A truth that mocks the brightness of morning.

A weary complacency, and you soothe and numb your will;
You had fought so hard and bloody, but the battle is raging still…                                 

You come to this point, this point of stagnation,
But don’t worry, there’s always the new generation…

Let others write and speak, and frenziedly thrash around,
They too will hit the peak, and eventually, come crashing down…

Only Youth bothers, masses of strong young limbs and rage,
The world is their platform, and traitor, and cage…

There’s promise in the wind, and yearning in their hands
And softness in the beach and its vast and littered sands,

There’s terror found in adulthood, and rebellion of the starved,
And rejection of the structures that their fathers’ sins have carved.

Oh the poor, wild Youth, they’ll be enlightened, with Time;
Time beats us all, breaks our hearts, leaves us tame,
As we encounter realities, learn the rules of its game.

And they too, will arrive to this point, this point of defeat.
Surrender- labeled prudence- has predictably begun!
Now, they’ll let others protest and challenge and entreat.
But you idiots- you’ve lost the Sun!

You’ve lost the Sun.

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