Sleep young dreamers, believe they will come true, because this
is the age of disparity, and you are among the few who will
own enough, some arable land, a fence and a chicken or two.
That baseball star, soccer star stuck in your head need never
go away. Baby blue meets yellow on the ramp ascending
to the peace and play all children know, or used to. Massive
inhumanity now comes into view, and the games we watch make
it all disappear, but there is plenty to do. Imagine the kids
toting Kalashnikovs dodging, firing their daily rounds, so new
to life, so brutalized, in the time of patented food, subsidized
to death, suicide seeds that don’t grow for the future, just one
shot profit, like glue for St. Louis, adhering to a business model
that, at any time or whim, can starve you too. So play and dream
in these unique lands, gain a point of view, but first be prepared
to laugh with mates, work hard, protect your loves, reach for the
proof, and then reprove that your heart stayed on track. You know
mine has, and at times against severe opposition from within. Our
house is a magic place with its trees and space and animals you
need. Go off in youth, mid-life, but remember the poor and come
back to farm if you must. I will stay here waiting, smiling, for you.



Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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