Synesthetic Dreams

Toujours I’m evanesced in a world encased in silver streaks meek and mild In a nouveau utopia, rugged on the edges, brazen on the inside The northern lights coruscate vividly in the dreamy night sky And a butterfly’s withering wing beats drum to the rhythm of my estranged soul The last rays of the sun have kissed the plateau before my eyes As she soldiers forth on a destiny unbound by measures There’s a shrieking stillness in the air around me, a world governed by borders and rules A matrix of trapped souls, petrified of freedom, bound by the senescent passing of the plagues of time In lockstep tandem we strut, bound in a visceral group conscience A conscience that favours the favoured and suppresses the suppressed Munificence has little discourse in this imbroglio, in this odious odyssey baptised life And change is lashed at by hordes of stormy petrels bent on blood solicitation The time for a contretemps is nigh, and vanishing sleekly over the crepuscular horizon Our nescience and abnegations can continue no longer Our stalwart stolid state towards our fellow man cannot be allowed to run amok as it has And so to the sky I look, towards the distant flicker of faraway stars; hope is our beacon, mankind our vexation.