Fear of retribution for acts not done
Anger at pain that cannot stop
Sadness at loss and all that was once
Flex slowly,
The cocoon moves,
Writhes
An energy of it’s own
A life of it’s own
It snaps a bit
Letting our reality peer in.

Jaded now, we forget times when
We helped those who reached
Pulled at them, made space for
Their shoulders to be free.
Instead, we sometimes watch
For amusement
For a feeling of landmark
Ownership.
Our ego limits us
To what we now are.

And the younger blood
is now less, but stronger.
It overpowers us by tainting
Primum est non nocere.
We are the future they say
They are reminiscent of our past
We were there
When we never were
Time holds us in the cradle of our minds,
Pulvis et umbra sumus.

Written in the 1990s.