2400
Do the ancient bloodlines
Even dream
Or do they lie asleep
In forever mourning of the past
No hope for the future
Given the derision of illusion
As history repeats
We dare step into the footprints
In which we could only dare to dream
Our feet could fit into
Given all the blood they shed for me
Unknowingly
To have a future
Did they forge ahead for you and me
Or was it sheerly
Survival
Did they believe in any legends
Of tomorrow
And how far have we fallen from the tree
Are the roots feeding on hypocrisy
More blood wine
Bureaucracy
That can shed no more tears for humanity
Drowning in their own ignorance
Yet they still call us s
And have our very seeds
Regarding themselves as the same
But these parasitic, epiphytic, lichen vagrants
Have yet to see the mirror
That their branches will forever grow in our name
All the worlds’ leaves will dry up, fall and wither away
In the wind
As if they never existed before
But is it not
Too much for the ancestors to endure
That the fruit is not as sweet as before
Perhaps it’s the fault of the soil
I have to believe that the ancestors toil
In their thoughts
Never at rest
Never in awe
But if I am
My ancestors’ wildest dreams
How can I put away such trivial things
When I know
That I am
The seed
And if I am buried even deeper than before
As in all the annals of history
That I may not see the sun
Aton
My God
And rise to the occasion
Of unfettered liberty
To full growth
As my family tree
But may instead rot
In the hell
In which they have smothered me
And meet with the devil
Despairingly
And with his cursed blessing
Dissolve all the roots of every tree
On Earth
In the fire
That my ancestors
Have honed within me
Because
I am
The seed
In which all homo-sapien life forms
Have germinated
-Black Queen
-Mitochondrial Eve…
