This Cannot Stand
Is there anyone left to care anymore This life of subsistence deadening our hearts Constant manipulation from those holding sway Horrific visions of hate and use gone unnoticed Power and greed rending death to thousands Color, creed, or blood enough to end their paths Who is there among you yet to care
The voices of the few, drifting on the winds Telling stories, giving warning, unheard in the din The blood-running river, the oil must flow Both sides knowing, only they the right to go Puppet masters pulling strings, telling what is real Condemning any or all, dare they not follow this shtick Pushed aside to be ground under heavy heal
I cannot stand aside Hide my head within the sands My dreams all showing true to path Darkness spreads across this land I must tell the stories, must share my humble fire Give all warning of this end of time Most urgent and harshly dire
Gentle reminders of Earth Mothers needs Poignant memories contained by our souls Of better days, a simpler time Peaceful lives full of love’s embrace Respect for all, whether minute or large Knowing our small part in creation’s space Harmony spreads, and peace comes too, across the Mother’s face
And in the silence of the mountains high I hear the whispering call of the winds ‘They will not listen. Cannot be made to care’ But I hold this cannot be true, So I stand ready as always before, hand out to offer my aid And reach for the brightest futures Where my heart no longer need sob.
Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre September 28th, 2007