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Dancing Fairies, by August Malmström
Robert L. Martin

Generations Flying

The world spins at a furious pace.
Springtime is a race around the globe.
Green keeps its vibrant shade of green.
Autumn leaves are suspended in the air.
Saplings rise like the blood of the beast,
As virgins cover their forbidden parts.
Forests soar into the calm of the sky.
Yesterday and today are identical twins.
Tomorrow is the speed of a lightning bolt.
Infants come and go through revolving doors.
Birth is a prelude to the hymn of death.
Generations surge into generations
As rivers dance between the rocks.
Waterfalls sink into petrified soil.
Inspiration draws from the bouncing moon.
Romance is a flutter of a starry eye.
Lovers float on the grumbling clouds
And give birth to the lively thunder.
Generations race with the roaring tempest
And land in the cradles of tomorrow.
Life is a moment of ecstasy and sorrow
And death is in the tears of their hearts.
The hereafter is the knowledge of tomorrow
As the stories on the pages speak so loud,
Loud and swiftly like the lunging serpent.
 
Where did the past and present go so fast?
Why can’t the future linger for a while?
Why didn’t the leaves touch the ground?
Why am I still reeling from the womb?
Why do generations fly into each other?
Why don’t they stop and rest for a while?

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