Rebels without a focus

In this age,
the young ones are looking to stage.
They turn a page,
but only let out a rage.
They try a gage,
but it offers no wage.
Now they are in a cage,
their freedom only known to the sage.

Still…

The young ones cry out,
lunging at ripples of water, they shout.

Consumed by our fear,
we, busy to hear.
fright in their outstretched hand,
their plight they are left to bear,
we, dance the tune of the beer.


They find…

Nothing to believe,
renders them without a vision,
at the sea level of anonymity,
their humanity is condemned to wallow,
the drowning ocean offers only,
mass confusion.

In the stifling darkness,
at the sea bottom,
lunging and groping,
in desperation for something real.

The real life-buoy cannot hold sway,
false ones clutter the way.
The only ones left to steal,
leaving them so unreal.

And now….

Out of the blue,
a lifeline comes anew.
With slime the line slings,
slippery, their desperation cannot hold,
illusion it only brings.

And yet,

The void waiting to be filled,
embracing another,
delusion becomes their creed.

But alas,

for some,
A path is shown,
a leverage is known.
New blossom of thermal energy,
devouring the thawing darkness,
impelled by the gravity drag.

They are shot at relativistic velocity,
from the black-hole,
out and out,
they come off the bag.

Weary,
Realising,
a closeness to nothingness,
a trip of foolishness.